Metamorphosis
by good grunt
Summary: Takes place in season four, another visiting stranger or is it strange visitor? The stranger claims familiarity but none of our explorers can offer recognition.


**Summary:** Takes place in season four, another visiting stranger or is it strange visitor? The stranger claims familiarity but none of our explorers can offer recognition. I'm not making any money. I don't own any of the characters. I just borrowed them and will return them no worse for wear. The story contains mild language. So watch out all you kiddies in cyber land.  
  
**Metamorphosis**  
  
By good grunt

**xxxxxxxx**

****

_'Its getting crowded in here.'_ That was the first thought of the new day from the youngest and most recent edition of the tree house inhabitants.  
  
Finn stood in the middle of the room. The highly energetic, often impatient blond slowly turned taking in the items left lying around by her housemates. First she noted Marguerite's favorite chair and next to it some unfinished sewing, a few geological specimens, and a magnifying glass. There was also a book, half read and haphazardly draped over the chair's arm.  
  
Next to Marguerite's place in the room came Roxton's abode of leisure. The nobleman's place contained a table with various weapons strewn about. Rags and oil for the guns, a mold for pouring bullets, as well as every other conceivable apparatus for the care and upkeep of the group's arsenal were accounted for. If she didn't already know better, Finn would swear that the hunter was obsessed only with death and destruction. However, she did know him. Despite the weapons sprawled all over his 'spot', he really only spent a marginal amount of time fooling around with them.  
  
Certainly, weapons were a necessity, but Roxton's true obsession was with Marguerite. Veronica, the original occupant of the extraordinary quarters, once told Finn that Marguerite and Roxton used to keep far apart from one another. Roxton had set up his things in a location well out of earshot, but not quite out of sight of the remarkable dark haired heiress. However, as time went by his things migrated closer and closer until they landed at their current position. Which was practically on top of Marguerite's things.  
  
The thought of Veronica turned Finn's attention toward the jungle girl's makeshift art studio. A half finished watercolor of some Plateau scene occupied the easel. Finn marveled over the intricate details housed on that single page. Veronica's many skills amazed Finn to no end. Her artistic skills only reaffirmed Finn's hero worship.  
  
A gentle breeze filtered through the tree house capturing a loose sheet of paper. It fluttered through the room and landed at Finn's feet. It was a scrap page from one of Ned Malone's journals. She picked up and quickly read it. The writings caused her to laugh. _'No wonder he tore it out.' _Finn mused. She was still laughing as she placed it back on Malone's desk. The journalist never bothered to keep his writings out of Finn's reach. He still thought she was illiterate. Never mind that Challenger gave her lessons all the time. Forget that Marguerite coached her some evenings. For some narrow reason Malone could not accept the fact that Finn had learned. It was ironic really, considering how much he had learned since arriving on the Plateau. But, for him, physical learning and mental learning were two different and separate educations.  
  
At first Finn had wanted to belt the 'thick headed' journalist. However, Marguerite gave her an alternative, a decidedly better alternative. It was Marguerite who told Finn just how tawdry and entertaining Malone's journals could be. It was Marguerite who convinced her to allow Malone to remain ignorant of her reading ability. It was Marguerite who egged Finn on to read and then relate Malone's musings. It was Marguerite who caused the journalist to turn bright red as she tactfully hit too close to home during colorful conversations at the crowded tree house dinner table. And finally, it was Marguerite who could remain blameless, even under the hunter's watchful eyes, of reading the journals personally.  
  
Again Finn glanced around. Malone and Veronica kept their spots fairly neat, she noticed. Roxton and Marguerite could stand to be neater. Veronica confided to her that she thought the two dark haired inhabitants were messy because they were both used to having servants clean up after them. _'Must be nice,_' thought Finn. At least their mess had a sort of chaotic organization to it, unlike some, namely Professor George Edward Challenger's. Finn thought it unfair that Challenger had the most space yet still demanded more. He had a room and a laboratory. Yet his 'experiments' were sprawled over the entire tree house from top to bottom. If someone didn't stop him, and soon, he'd probably start putting his junk literally everywhere. This included what little personal space they had. Finn was certain that she would wake up one morning to find test tubes and specimen cases in bed with her.  
  
Although she hated the future New Amazonia where she came from, sometimes she missed the solitude and emptiness of the numerable abandoned buildings. It had been a long time since she had lived with this many people in such close quarters. Re-noticing the clutter surrounding her increased her agitated state. She tried to shrug it off as she headed towards the breakfast area. Marguerite was already there. The sight caused Finn to start a little, as the heiress was known for sleeping in most mornings. _'It must be later than I thought'_ Finn mused.  
  
Marguerite slightly glanced at the younger woman. Her keen sense of observation quickly deduced Finn's mood and its cause.  
  
"Cluttered enough for you?" she asked.  
  
Finn was startled at how the simple statement was exactly what she was thinking. She tilted her head in contemplation as she tried to figure out how Marguerite had read her mind. Again Marguerite anticipated Finn's thoughts.  
  
"When we first moved into the tree house, the close quarters nearly drove me out of my mind. I seriously considered murdering one or two of our numbers just for a little peace and quiet. We all adapted, however, and you will too. Just give it some time."  
  
Finn was overwhelmed by her usually 'tight lipped' housemate's candor. So much so, that she spoke before she thought.  
  
"This place is a madhouse and I don't have any room to breathe. Maybe you could move in with Roxton and then I can have your room?"  
  
As soon as she said it, the realization of the possible consequences hit her like a stomping T-rex. She gasped, as visions of a very dangerous Marguerite danced through her head. Finn forced herself to look at the enigmatic woman.  
  
Marguerite had risen from the dinning table and had calmly walked to the balcony. She motioned for the dazed girl to join her. Finn was reluctant to say the least. Her leaden feet were extremely hard to move as she trod toward uncertainty. Would Marguerite push her off the balcony? Could she manage to save herself by catching a branch on the way down?  
  
"Good Lord, I'm not going to murder you!" exclaimed Marguerite. Her eyes narrowed and she slightly smiled as she added, "Not yet, anyway."  
  
She rolled her eyes at Finn's expression of doubt.  
  
"Honestly, you'd think some people would understand me by now."  
  
Marguerite grasped the reluctant blond by her shoulder and pulled her the few remaining steps toward the banister.  
  
"Look down there."  
  
Finn looked. It was the same as always.  
  
"Yeah, so?" remarked Finn.  
  
"So...what do you see?"  
  
"I see the shed, the woodpile, the fence, you know... our stuff." Finn answered.  
  
"MmHmm...I see your seedlings, your gardening tools, and your targets...get my point?"  
  
Marguerite could see that she didn't.  
  
"Hell, its like your own personal playground down there." She added.  
  
Finn regarded Marguerite for a moment and then shrugged.  
  
"Okay...?"  
  
Marguerite sighed.  
  
"The reason you don't have any space inside the tree house is because you never do anything up here. You're always prancing about outside. The only time you ever spend up here is when you're eating, sleeping, or occasionally studying your lessons. None of which requires a lot of room, much less permanent space. If you ever develop a hobby in which you need indoor space we'll make room."  
  
Marguerite paused to see if any of this was sinking into the younger girl's brain. Finn took on a slightly subdued manner and she bit her lower lip as the words slowly sunk in. Finn looked up at Marguerite and smiled as she realized that the unpredictable woman wasn't going to hurt her after all. But Marguerite wasn't quite finished yet.  
  
"Let me make it perfectly clear for you. Just so there is no misunderstanding. Veronica could invite the entire Zanga village to live in this tree house, and I could spend from now until doomsday outside of my room, my room... as long as I'm staying here. A girl needs a place to store her things. That's the way it has to be."  
  
Marguerite leaned in closer to Finn. She lowered her voice and her eyes flashed with great intensity as she whispered menacingly.  
  
"No matter what."  
  
Finn was mesmerized at how Marguerite could turn mundane words into a death threat._ 'I need her to teach me that'_ she thought. A voice from the dining area broke through the tense moment.  
  
"Fresh coffee for you Marguerite."  
  
Finn smiled at the sound of Roxton's voice. _'The man has perfect timing'_ she thought.  
  
_'Damn the man'_ thought Marguerite. _'He has lousy timing. And why does he think that he can always placate me with a cup of fresh coffee? UGHH.'  
_  
Nevertheless, she brusquely brushed past Finn towards the hunter. She thought to put the man in his place. However, as she neared him he flashed a sincere 'good morning' smile that hastily melted her ill humor.  
  
_'Oh well,'_ she sighed as she returned the smile. She then made her way back to the table in order to accept his sublime concoction. _'He does make the best coffee. Its odd really, since he rarely drinks it himself.'  
_  
It was not odd at all. He had honed this particular culinary skill for her. Always the gentleman, he held her chair out. Once she was settled he leaned in close in order to pour her a cup, or was it to whisper in her ear?  
  
"What were you two so occupied about over there?" he inquired.  
  
"Oh, just a little girl talk."  
  
Roxton knew it was a little more than that but thought it better to leave well enough alone in the presence of Finn. He couldn't help but notice Finn's wary look as she sat at the table well away from Marguerite's reach. Sometimes his ladylove could pack a wallop. He relished verbal sparring with Marguerite, but being on the receiving end of her distemper was an entirely different matter.  
  
"Better her than me" he offered.  
  
Marguerite turned to look at him and smirked. Anything she might have said was interrupted by the noise of the elevator. It was Ned Malone and Veronica arriving with a basket of fresh fruit.  
  
"Is that fresh coffee I smell?" Malone asked.  
  
Marguerite scowled at the thought of sharing her coffee but said nothing. Of course, Roxton noticed her discontent as he gazed at her. His look clearly stated that he would be more than willing to make more coffee for her, should she so desire. She nodded her acquiescence. The entire exchange had been so subtle that the others had not even noticed.  
  
"Fresh and waiting for you" said Roxton as he passed the pot.  
  
"Thanks" said Malone. "Would you like some, Veronica?"  
  
"You know I prefer tea, Ned," she answered.  
  
"I, uh, just thought I'd ask. You know, to be polite? Would you like some Finn?"  
  
"Nah" grunted Finn.  
  
"I'll take that as a no." muttered Malone.  
  
"You guys sure left early. I could've gone with you." Finn whined.  
  
Malone sputtered on his coffee. It was Veronica who answered.  
  
"Yes, you were still sleeping, we didn't want to disturb you."  
  
"Oh, okay. So, what kind of fruit did you get?" Finn asked as she peered into the basket.  
  
"The usual." Veronica shrugged.  
  
"Any grapes?" Roxton asked.  
  
A snort of laughter from Marguerite caused Roxton to smile and the others to start. It was an inside joke between the two. The others looked on curiously. They didn't see that anything was funny.  
  
"There's not a lot of fruit in here for you two being gone so long." Finn complained.  
  
"Well, we didn't need that much and...the basket was getting heavy so we just came back." Veronica answered lamely.  
  
Marguerite could not resist any longer.  
  
"Veronica, I'm surprised. What with Malone's 'bronzed muscles' and 'vigorous stride' I'm sure he could've handled a few more puny melons."  
  
Malone's face turned a nice deep shade of red, bordering on purple.  
  
"That's a direct quote." He practically screamed.  
  
"What?" Veronica asked.  
  
"She's been reading my journals again. I thought we were past all this years ago. She never changes. She's just as horrible and vindictive as ever."  
  
"Now wait just a bloody minute" interrupted Roxton.  
  
Marguerite placed a hand on his shoulder.  
  
"I can fend for myself, John."  
  
"That's not the point," he said "You shouldn't have to."  
  
He started to say more but a look from Marguerite silenced him. All of a sudden a stray thought went through Marguerite's mind. It was times like these that made her miss Arthur Summerlee. The dear old gentleman loved a good row. A moment of sadness and loss swept across her, but she quickly put it aside in order to deal with the matter at hand.  
  
"Please continue, Ned."  
  
The statement was made calmly and disinterested, as if she were discussing the weather. The apparent apathy and her outright audacity made Malone tremble with rage. He cast a scathing glance in her direction. The looked caused Roxton to become enraged at the journalist's lack of self- control. Even Veronica seemed taken aback. Finn went unnoticed in the background.  
  
Roxton maintained a close watch on Malone. One false move against Marguerite and the hunter would pounce. The situation brought to mind a similar occurrence that took place a few years back. Roxton had to physically restrain Malone from attacking Marguerite. To this day, he cringed at the thought of what might have happened had the two come to blows. Even then he knew he'd do anything to keep her safe. He did not understand his protective instincts at that time, but he knew the underlying reasons now. If Malone decided to cross the line this time he would receive a black eye or fat lip for his efforts. Maybe he'd get both. The thought satisfied Roxton to the extent that the hunter once again focused on the conversation around him.  
  
"You've no right to violate my privacy!" Malone screamed.  
  
Marguerite said nothing. She raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms, waiting for the upset man to continue.  
  
"My journals are my personal thoughts..." he continued.  
  
"He's right, Marguerite." Veronica added supportively.  
  
Marguerite raised an eyebrow as she slightly turned her attention towards Veronica. The look she sent stopped the jungle girl from continuing. Marguerite was too calm. All of a sudden Veronica was no longer sure whether or not the heiress was indeed guilty.  
  
"Wait a minute, Ned," she said.  
  
Veronica's voice startled Malone out of his freshly prepared tirade.  
  
"What is it?" he asked.  
  
"When did she read them?"  
  
Marguerite's smug smile was all the answer Veronica needed.  
  
"She didn't have the time." Veronica concluded flatly.  
  
Marguerite's smug smile broadened.  
  
"She had to have..." Malone insisted.  
  
"Did you see her?" asked Veronica.  
  
"No...but..." Malone stammered, "She hasn't denied it."  
  
"She is right here." Marguerite declared.  
  
Roxton turned his sharp eyes toward her. He carefully observed her manner. She was enjoying this too much. Something seemed amiss.  
  
"Well?" the hunter asked her.  
  
"Well what?" she retorted slyly.  
  
"Did you read Ned's journals?" demanded Veronica in a huff.  
  
Marguerite kept her eyes embedded on the hunter.  
  
"No." she answered simply.  
  
Roxton saw the truth in her gaze, but the answer didn't satisfy Malone.  
  
"Then how did she know...?" Malone started.  
  
"Marguerite said she didn't read them." Roxton insisted.  
  
The hunter's support made Marguerite decide to put the 'fun' to rest, for now.  
  
"I didn't read them," she said. "Veronica's right. I didn't have the time, or the interest. I didn't read them while you were away and I haven't touched them since you've been back."  
  
Veronica nodded in agreement. Marguerite could have read Malone's journals while he was on his solo expedition, but she didn't do it even though she had ample opportunity. Veronica placed a hand on Ned's shoulder.  
  
"I can't argue with her there, Ned. She could've read them while you were gone but didn't."  
  
"Then how can you explain the quotes?" insisted the stubborn journalist.  
  
Marguerite turned towards him and smiled maliciously.  
  
"Can I help it if your writings are so dull and unoriginal as to be completely predictable to one who has read a smattering of your works?"  
  
Roxton smiled slightly as he remembered Marguerite explaining to him about the _Penny Dreadfuls_ and how the trashy pulps had greatly influenced Malone's writing style. Malone, on the other hand, muttered something unintelligible. He was unconvinced of Marguerite's innocence, but could offer no proof of her guilt. In the end, all he could do was cross his arms and stare belligerently at her. Veronica racked her brain in order to find a way to lighten his mood. Roxton looked around uncertainly trying to figure out Marguerite's part in all of this. Marguerite sat back and enjoyed her handiwork. Her eyes fairly danced in merriment. Finn was also enjoying Malone's discomfiture. So much so that she was already planning another reading rendezvous with his journals.  
  
Just then a shout from the lab broke through their reverie. Almost as one they started towards it. "Challenger?" hollered Malone, Veronica and Finn, while at the same time Roxton and Marguerite yelled "George?"  
  
Before they could reach the steps leading down into the laboratory, Challenger rushed into the room. He was in an excitable state, even more so than usual. He was looking from side to side scanning the room frantically. He was holding a net. Roxton and Marguerite shared an uncertain glance. After all, Challenger conducted all sorts of unusual experiments. Some were even potentially dangerous. What could cause the visionary to become so agitated? Should they be concerned for their safety?  
  
"Challenger, what is it?" Veronica inquired.  
  
At first it seemed as if the scientist had not heard her. He kept looking around in his distracted manner. Veronica was about to repeat the question when he finally answered.  
  
"Its Arthur. He's missing."  
  
"Summerlee's been missing for over two years now." Malone stated in a slightly confused voice.  
  
Finn rolled her eyes at the man's display of ignorance. _'Or was it stupidity?'_ she thought.  
  
"No, Ned," Veronica explained, "Arthur is the insect that Challenger found. Remember? I told you about how excited he was when he discovered it. It happened while you were away."  
  
"Oh, right. The beetle that spun a cocoon." Malone commented.  
  
"Beetles don't spin cocoons." Challenger corrected distractedly.  
  
Malone just nodded. He knew better than to challenge the scientist while he was in this mood.  
  
"There is a good chance that Arthur is no longer in the tree house. Let's see...I last saw him approximately twenty minutes ago...his cocoon was still intact. I needed the lid to his case temporarily in order to hold a more 'lively' specimen...and then he was gone."  
  
Challenger slowly turned about the room while absently rubbing his beard.  
  
"Hmm," he continued, "I figure he couldn't have been gone for very long as most of the unaccounted time must have been used in breaking out of his cocoon. If I hurry, I should be able to find him nearby."  
  
"Well, if you wait a moment we'll get a few more nets and help you, George." Roxton offered.  
  
"Yes, yes of course. That'd be fine." Challenger answered.  
  
"Hey Challenger, how're you going to find a little bug out in the big ole jungle? I mean, now that he's hatched you don't even know what he looks like any more." Finn asked.  
  
Challenger looked at the young woman with something akin to fatherly impatience.  
  
"Well, that will be the easy part, Finn. I simply have to look for a species I don't recognize."  
  
Challenger's ego had struck again by implying that he could 'on the spot' identify multitudes of insect species to the point where an unknown would stick out like a sore thumb.  
  
"Oh, brother." Finn muttered.  
  
In no time they had the supplies that they needed. Roxton was reaching for the guns when a resounding crash echoed through the jungle. It was followed by a scream of "Help!" The hunter threw a rifle to Marguerite while grabbing his own. A heartbeat later found him by her side at the balcony scanning for the source of the plea. The others quickly joined them.  
  
"There." Veronica pointed.  
  
They followed her outstretched hand to a frantic individual running wildly through the jungle. It was a man, obviously being chased by the way he kept peering over his shoulder. Soon the cause of his mad dash became clear through the foliage.  
  
"Raptors." Malone commented.  
  
It would be a few more seconds before they could get a clear shot through all of the vegetation. It was uncertain if the man had that long.  
  
"Over here," yelled Malone, "This way!"  
  
The man ran towards Malone's voice, probably more out of instinct than rational thought. Roxton lightly gripped his rifle. A grim smile lighted his face as he peered down the barrel. He had no doubt that if the man could hold out until the raptors came into range he and the others would be able to pick them off. All of them had improved their marksmanship over the past few years. He had implicit faith in them, especially of the dark haired woman by his side. The two of them had fended off greater odds than these.  
  
"I've got my eye on the closest four, do you see any others?" he asked.  
  
"Two more, far off to the right." Marguerite answered.  
  
"I see them, they're mine." Malone said.  
  
"Fine by me, I'll take the closer ones on the right." Marguerite commented.  
  
"I'll take the left, then." Roxton stated.  
  
"I guess that leaves the center for me." Challenger concluded.  
  
"That guy is not going to make it." Finn said.  
  
With that, the young blond quickly disappeared behind one of the larger potted botanical specimens on the balcony and kicked a long length of rope over the edge. Clearly this was something she had planned in advance of this situation as one end of the rope was already tied to the balcony.  
  
"Finn, wait." Veronica yelled.  
  
Before any of them could stop her, Finn had nimbly climbed over the banister and repelled down to the ground.  
  
"Oh, great..." Veronica muttered.  
  
She quickly followed the impetuous girl over the side. By the time Veronica reached the ground Finn was running towards the parameter electric fence. They both yelled to the stranger, ordering him to run towards them. Finn raised her crossbow and Veronica unsheathed her knife in preparation to defend the seemingly unarmed man. However, by that time the raptors had come into range of the rifles. A few quick and loud shots later found six dead raptors and a grateful but out of breath stranger. Veronica motioned for the man to follow her towards the gate. He nodded and hurriedly made his way through the remaining bit of jungle. Meanwhile, Veronica used this opportunity to chastise Finn.  
  
"What were you thinking about, pulling a stunt like that?"  
  
"I was just trying to help a guy out." Finn said sheepishly.  
  
"By jumping out of the tree house on a rope?"

"The elevator is too slow." Finn complained.  
  
"It was still a dumb move." Veronica said angrily.  
  
"Yeah? Well, you followed me." Finn's own anger was rising.  
  
"Someone has to keep you in line, or at least alive."  
  
Finn looked hurt and angry over her hero's lecture and was about to say things involving numerous four-letter words that would surely have shocked Veronica. She was a little disappointed when the stranger, who had finally arrived at the gate, interrupted her.  
  
"Thank ...thank you, my dear Veronica." He said in a strained out of breath voice.  
  
Veronica looked at the man. He had dark hair and European clothing. He had handsome regular features and looked to be in the prime of life.  
  
"Do I know you?" Veronica asked.  
  
The man looked at her in a slightly confused way.  
  
"Why Veronica, its me, Arthur Summerlee."  
  
Veronica stared at the man in disbelief. She was so absorbed in her own shock that she barely noticed the rumbling of the elevator followed by the arrival of Challenger and Malone. Marguerite and Roxton remained on the balcony to provide cover, just in case.  
  
"I thought Summerlee was an old guy." Finn said distrustfully.  
  
The comment caused Challenger and Malone to stop dead in their tracks. Their smiles and warm greetings faded into wariness.  
  
"Challenger, this man says he's Arthur Summerlee." Veronica managed to say.  
  
Challenger glanced at the young man before them.  
  
"Arthur Summerlee Jr. perhaps?" he inquired.  
  
"Or third?" muttered Malone.  
  
"Damn it Challenger, its me. Ned? Veronica? Have you all gone mad? Where's Roxton and Marguerite? Surely Marguerite will know me."  
  
"She might at that...but I certainly see no resemblance. Have you looked at yourself lately?" asked Challenger.  
  
"No...but..." the man was becoming upset.  
  
"Look at your hands, man." Challenger suggested.  
  
The man glanced down and stared as if he'd never seen them before.  
  
"Why, they're young!"  
  
The man clutched at himself, feeling his face and hair.  
  
"I don't understand. What's happened?"  
  
His voice became shrill and panicked.  
  
"I'm me...Challenger?"  
  
The chase, followed by the evident revelation proved too much for the man and he fainted.  
  
"Could it really be him?" asked Veronica.  
  
"How could it?" added Malone.  
  
"It all sounds like a big fake out to me." Finn said.  
  
"Whatever the case we can't just leave him lying out here in the open. Let's get him into the tree house. I'll examine him and we'll find out exactly who he is." Challenger said.  
  
Challenger's eyes lit up at the prospect of solving another potential mystery of the Plateau. What if this man really was Arthur? How did he come to be here and in such an altered state? They picked up the man and made their way back to the elevator. Once back at the top they were greeted by their two remaining companions. Marguerite and Roxton still held their rifles and looked on curiously as Malone and Challenger carried the unconscious man into the room. They came over to get a closer look as the scientist and the journalist placed him upon a couch. Marguerite could plainly see that something was bothering her companions. Even Finn looked solemn. She glanced worriedly over at Roxton. She could tell that he was sensing the same foreboding feelings.  
  
"Everything all right?" Roxton asked.  
  
The others were still in a state of disbelief and were unsure of how to explain the situation to their companions. Silence reigned throughout the tree house and the anxiety level rose a couple of degrees. Unconsciously, Roxton and Marguerite took a few steps closer to one another.  
  
"What is it?" Roxton demanded.  
  
"This man claims to be Arthur Summerlee." Veronica blurted.  
  
"Our Arthur Summerlee?" Marguerite asked incredulously.  
  
Malone nodded yes.  
  
"That's utterly ridiculous." Roxton answered.  
  
"Stranger things have happened." Veronica commented.  
  
"Have they?" Marguerite said sarcastically.  
  
"I don't know. We've seen some pretty weird things." Malone said to support Veronica.  
  
"You mean like an old man getting pierced by an arrow, falling off a bridge, plunging over a massive waterfall, missing for over two years, only to magically reappear decades younger? That kind of weird?" snapped Marguerite.  
  
Roxton moved closer to her, and placed his arm protectively around her. She did not back away.  
  
"I assure you, Marguerite, we will get to the bottom of this." Challenger promised.  
  
"Why's he out so long?" asked Finn.  
  
"He's had quite a shock to the system, first from the chase and then the identity crisis. I wouldn't be surprised if he slept through the night. Still, it might be prudent to be prepared in any event." Challenger mused.  
  
"You mean a sedative?" asked Marguerite. "You think he's that unbalanced?"  
  
Roxton shrewdly eyed Marguerite. Her perceptiveness, especially when dealing with Challenger, amazed him. Malone, on the other hand, looked uneasy. Always the humanitarian of the group, the thought of drugging someone made him ill.  
  
"Is drugging him really necessary?" he asked.  
  
"It may be that this young man's confusion is temporary, brought on by the terror of an excruciating and imminent threat of death. However, we can't discount the fact that he may be irrevocably unbalanced, and as such potentially dangerous. Having a sedative ready, just in case, would be logically prudent." Challenger said.  
  
Malone nodded. When put that way who could argue? Challenger was ready to retire to his laboratory. He felt that all his talking was a waste of time. He wanted to have that sedative ready well in advance of actually needing it. He looked to Marguerite. She usually assisted him with his more complicated procedures. Her knowledge was quite extensive. He valued her expertise in many areas. Including those more delicate and lesser known in normal public education, namely mood altering drugs, truth serums, sedatives, and poisons, to list but a few.  
  
As he looked at her something gave him pause. She was staring at the stranger. Her face was unguarded. She looked sad and lost. He had never imagined that she could be affected in this way. True, she and Arthur had been extremely close. During those first few months on the Plateau he was the only one she would confide in. Arthur always treated her as befitting a lady, with utmost respect. In return, he was never in want of anything if she could help it. While she incessantly complained to the rest of them, she always made sure that Arthur was never left behind. During that time she would willingly pick a fight with any one of them, but she never raised her voice or said one harsh word to Summerlee. She trusted him. Challenger felt an unfamiliar protective streak swell up inside him. He glanced over at Roxton. He was also looking worriedly at her. Challenger decided that the best move would be to remove the stranger from Marguerite's sight.  
  
"Roxton, Malone...let's move our guest out of the main area where we can more easily monitor and enclose him, should the need arise. We might as well put him in Summerlee's room."  
  
"Yeah, that way we can tell if he's lying. By whether or not he recognizes the room." Malone suggested.  
  
This was not Challenger's intent and he doubted that the room would make any difference one way or the other. However, he did not have the heart to ruin Malone's enthusiasm. They carried the man into the room and made him as comfortable as possible under the circumstances. He was still out cold.  
  
"Let's go brew up some sedative, Challenger." Finn said.  
  
She was already bored by the sleeping guy and wanted something new to occupy her time. Challenger nodded and looked again to Marguerite. She still seemed unusually preoccupied. Veronica noticed Challenger's hesitation and mistook it for his common state of distraction.  
  
"I'll help you, Challenger."  
  
Challenger nodded gratefully. Although Veronica did not have Marguerite's knowledge of the more dubious aspects of what he had in mind, her botanical skills were bar none.  
  
"Mind if I tag along?" asked Ned.  
  
"Of course not, don't be silly," Veronica answered.  
  
They headed towards the laboratory. Finn lingered behind taking one last glimpse of the stranger, willing him to wake up. It was to no avail. She sighed.  
  
"Let us know if he wakes up or anything." She said doubtfully as she hopped down the steps to the lab and out of sight.

****

Roxton tried to lead Marguerite out of their 'guest's' quarters but she wouldn't have it. She paused in the doorway absorbed in thought.  
  
"Are you all right?" he gently asked.  
  
"Yeah, sure, I'm fine." She assured him.  
  
She shook her head distractedly. She then looked carefully at him.  
  
"You don't think it really could be him, do you?" she asked.  
  
"I tend to agree with Challenger's theory that he's confused rather than Summerlee grown young again. Surely you don't think its him."  
  
Marguerite remained silent and deliberately looked away from him.  
  
"Oh come on, Marguerite. You can tell me."  
  
"Maybe I want to believe it" she confided, "A part of me would like to have Arthur come back. As for him growing young... It's not as if we haven't witnessed it before. What about that whole episode with five hundred year old Ana and the Fountain of Youth?"  
  
"Yes, but remember? The well was dry."  
  
"Maybe there was another source and..."  
  
"And Summerlee just happened to fall into it?" he interrupted. "No, this fellow is probably just another lunatic bent on killing us all."  
  
"My, my, how cynical of you Lord Roxton. Careful John, you're beginning to sound like me. People will say that we're spending too much time together."  
  
"Let them say what they will. I'll deny every word."  
  
He stared deep into her eyes. Not for the first time he mused _'a man could get lost in those eyes.'_ Feelings of want and longing threatened to overwhelm him, but this was neither the time nor the place. He jerked himself back to reality and reached a hand out to her.  
  
"Come on my dear, this fellow isn't going anywhere for the time being. Let's go and join the others. I'm sure George will have a theory or two."  
  
She looked at him knowingly.  
  
"Only two?" she asked.  
  
She accepted his hand and the two headed to the lab.

**xxxxxxxx**

****

Meanwhile, Challenger was preparing the ingredients that Veronica brought to him. He set a beaker to boil as he began crushing a mish mash of powerful herbs with a mortar and pestle. Veronica brought him the final ingredient on his hastily prepared list.  
  
"Thank you, Veronica. Your skills in botany are first rate. Your father would've been proud." Challenger praised.  
  
The unexpected praise astonished Veronica to the point that it took a second to compose herself and offer a reply.  
  
"Thank you, Challenger."  
  
An increasingly heated debate between Finn and Malone interrupted them.  
  
"What you're telling me doesn't make any sense." Malone said.  
  
"Yeah? Well you're the dumbest thing I've ever seen." Finn replied.  
  
"You don't have to be rude." Malone countered.  
  
"What's going on?" asked Veronica.  
  
"We were discussing theories about the guy upstairs. Future girl here claims that maybe he traveled through time like she did. I told her that it didn't add up." Malone answered.  
  
Finn huffed at the nickname.  
  
"Fine then, dumb ass boy, let's hear your stinking theory." She replied.  
  
"Finn!" exclaimed Veronica.  
  
"Watch your language young lady." Challenger scolded.  
  
Finn wasn't used to their Edwardian values where a young lady probably wouldn't even know curse words much less use them. Her future society, disgusting place that it was, afforded a more lax and verbal free environment.  
  
"Sorry, V...Challenger..." she eyed Malone evilly, "Well? I'm waiting."  
  
That was the best apology that they could expect from the girl so they all went back to their tasks.  
  
"Hold on, I'm thinking." Malone replied smiling as Finn eyed him doubtfully. "O.K. here it goes. What if...now this may seem a little farfetched."  
  
Finn rolled her eyes and muttered, "Give me a break." Anything farfetched to Malone was usually astronomically impossible to anyone else. Malone ignored her and continued.  
  
"What if Arthur the beetle, uh...insect, was in fact Arthur Summerlee?"  
  
"And that makes more sense than time travel?" Finn asked astounded.  
  
"Bare with me." Malone continued. "The purpose of a cocoon is metamorphosis, right? And Challenger always likened the insect to Summerlee; otherwise he wouldn't have named it after him. Think about it. This guy just happens to show up right when the insect disappears, cocoon and all. He claims to be the Arthur Summerlee. He appears young but he seems to know us."  
  
Malone looked at Finn pointedly.  
  
"Which he wouldn't if he'd simply traveled through time. If it turns out to be him, and he's changed, physically changed, what other way could it have happened than through metamorphosis?"  
  
Finn's expression of incredulity gave way to a more agreeable perception as she mulled the theory over. Some vague recollection snapped in the back of her mind.  
  
"Nice try Malone, but you should save it for your journals." Marguerite said as she and Roxton entered the lab.  
  
Malone turned a disgruntled eye towards her. He was still suspicious over the earlier incident involving his journals. Knowing this, Marguerite couldn't help but rub it in a little.  
  
"It'd add nicely to all your deliciously fascinating tales." Marguerite purred.  
  
Malone was about to bring up the same old suspicions and tired arguments but was interrupted by Finn.  
  
"No wait, it's like the pod people." Finn said.  
  
"Pod people?" asked Challenger.  
  
"Yeah...they were like aliens who took over people by putting them in pods, or something. Anyways, when people acted funny and not themselves it was because they weren't. They were taken over by pods. So, maybe Arthur was a pod thing and when he hatched he flew off and infected some stranger. Don't you see? The stranger was taken over. That's why you don't recognize him and why he doesn't know himself."  
  
Finn smiled at her own ingenuity.  
  
"That's even more farfetched than one of Ned's stories. You two ought to start a 'tall tales' club." Veronica laughed.  
  
Veronica's laugh was infectious. Soon Malone, Roxton and Marguerite had joined in. However, Finn didn't find her theory funny or farfetched.  
  
"I don't see Challenger laughing." Finn said defensively.  
  
The others immediately stopped laughing and focused on the visionary. Surely he didn't believe in pod people. Marguerite was the first to recover her senses. She realized that he was most likely upset at the loss of his insect.  
  
"George, why don't you let me finish up here so you can go look for Arthur." She offered.  
  
"Nonsense, this is more important right now. The search for Arthur can wait until a more opportune time."  
  
With that said the scientist went back to his preparations. Marguerite made her way towards him in order to offer assistance. Right away she noticed a slight problem.  
  
"That's not enough, George." Marguerite said.  
  
"We want to sedate, not kill him." Challenger replied.  
  
"True, but that particular recipe is not all that its cracked up to be."  
  
She perused Challenger's list of ingredients and quickly formulated his intended serum. She nodded to herself.  
  
"If you leave it at this current strength there's a possibility that he'll be able to come to without us knowing it."  
  
She went to one of the shelves searching for just the right ingredient to add to the mix.  
  
"Ah ha," she said grabbing a particularly colorful jar, "Add two tablespoons of this."  
  
"But in that quantity it is potentially hallucinogenic." Protested the ethical scientist.  
  
"Precisely, we want him to be disoriented when he begins to come around. That way he'll give himself away rather than lie in wait to attack us. Trust me, this will give us the upper hand." Marguerite said.  
  
The others looked at her in amazement. Roxton and Challenger wondered where she could of learned all of this. Veronica wondered how she could be so cold and calculating at times. Finn wanted to be educated by her. Malone cringed thinking that sometimes she could be downright scary. In the end, though, Challenger added the ingredient that would provide the extra oomph.  
  
"Remind me never to get on your bad side." Roxton commented.  
  
Marguerite smiled at him leaving just the right amount of expression to keep him guessing. In no time all was ready and the explorers lingered, unable to decide what to do next.  
  
"Well? What are we waiting for? Lets give it to him." Finn stated impatiently.  
  
The others gawked at her uncertainly.  
  
"I don't believe I'm saying this, but I tend to agree with Finn." Marguerite said.  
  
"But he hasn't done anything to warrant drugging him." Malone complained.  
  
"I agree with Ned. We should wait until we know more about him." Veronica added.  
  
"Fine, you all guard him until he comes around. But don't expect me to waste my time with it." Marguerite stated.  
  
With that, she left the room and went about her day. Finn lasted a few seconds longer until boredom overcame her. She shrugged and headed off to find a more interesting occupation. Challenger went back to his many other experiments including the search for his missing insect. The remaining explorers broke the remains of the day into shifts of guard duty. The day past and nothing happened. Tension mounted as the strange man stayed unconscious. How long could he remain in this state? Was something more wrong with him? Only Challenger offered an explanation.  
  
"Who knows how long he's been running and when the last time he's slept. If it had been awhile, the lack of sleep coupled with the strain could account for his continued slumber."  
  
They continued to watch and wait. That night Finn and Marguerite were unable to convince the others to drug the man so that they could have a decent night's sleep. Marguerite once again shrugged off guard duty. It didn't matter. The night proved to be as uneventful as the day. Morning found Roxton checking in on the current watch.  
  
"Any change?" he asked.  
  
A slightly startled Veronica turned toward him.  
  
"No, nothing."  
  
Roxton nodded as he yawned. He was still somewhat tired, as he had taken the middle watch.  
  
"It probably goes to prove Challenger's theory that this chap was confused rather than actually being Summerlee." He hazard to guess.  
  
"Then how can you explain him knowing me? Only someone who's been to the Plateau would know about me." Veronica replied.  
  
"Unless Summerlee made it back and told someone about you." Malone said as he tiredly made his way to join them. "If that's the case, this guy could know a way off the Plateau." He added excitedly.  
  
"Where have I heard that one before?" A voice said sarcastically.  
  
It was Marguerite. They were surprised to see her awake as it was still very early.  
  
"Who can sleep in with all this intrigue?" She offered.  
  
"Who indeed." Concurred a sleepy Challenger.  
  
"That just leaves..." Malone began.  
  
"What's going on? Anything happen?" interrupted a groggy Finn.  
  
"No, nothing yet." Malone laughed.  
  
The stranger stirred in his sleep, causing the others to jump. They all went over to him and surrounded his bed. Again he stirred.  
  
"He's dreaming." Challenger muttered.  
  
"It doesn't look like they're pleasant dreams." Veronica said.  
  
The man continued to stir animatedly, shifting from side to side.  
  
"I think he's finally coming around." Malone guessed.  
  
All of a sudden the man sprang up and clutched his stomach.  
  
"Help...No!" he screamed.  
  
For a few moments he peered around rapidly. He was obviously disoriented. However, as he looked around he began to calm down.  
  
"Are you alright?" asked Malone.  
  
The man turned to him.  
  
"Malone?" he asked.  
  
He glanced at the others, calling each by name. He stopped at Finn.  
  
"I don't know you."  
  
He quickly glanced back at Marguerite. It was almost as if he were assuring himself of Finn's presence by Marguerite's attitude.  
  
"However, you keep good company." He said smiling. "How did we..." he began. Then he grabbed his head, as if it pained him. "I don't quite know what's been going on, I'm afraid. Perhaps one of you would be good enough to fill me in?"  
  
Malone took a step forward, clearly prepared to answer anything the man wanted to know. Before he could get a word out, Marguerite placed a hand on his arm. Her intense look clearly cautioned against giving out any information.  
  
"I'm sorry...Arthur...but I'm afraid that you'll have to answer some of our questions before we can satisfy yours." Challenger said.  
  
"Fair enough," replied the man, "but do you mind if I grab a bite to eat? You see I'm famished."  
  
His seemingly good nature began to put Veronica at ease. It was entirely similar to the Summerlee that she remembered.  
  
"Of course not, we'll give you a minute to freshen up and meet you at the table."  
  
Marguerite stared incredulously at her. She returned the stare, daring an argument. Marguerite shrugged and after a few reluctant steps walked out of the room. It was, after all, Veronica's tree house. The others followed suite. They began to prepare a quick breakfast. Roxton started making some coffee. He could tell that they were going to need it. Marguerite turned to Veronica.  
  
"What are you thinking?" She demanded.  
  
"The least we can do is give him a minute to wake up before interrogating him." Veronica replied.  
  
"No, the least we can do is throw him out. And clearly you know nothing about interrogation."  
  
Veronica wasn't in the mood for a trip down Marguerite's shady past. She was about to start in angrily when the man entered.  
  
"I hope I'm not interrupting anything." He said looking from the jungle girl to the heiress.  
  
"No, not at all." Marguerite replied in her most disinterested voice.  
  
"Glad to hear it my dear." He replied.  
  
Marguerite eyed him narrowly and took a few steps away from him. She was relieved to hear Roxton voice a familiar phrase.  
  
"Fresh coffee for you, Marguerite."  
  
Roxton was also eyeing the stranger. He disliked the familiar attitude the man displayed towards them all, especially Marguerite. He wasn't satisfied until he had her seated beside him sipping a cup of his coffee.  
  
"You do make the best coffee." Marguerite murmured to him.  
  
The exchange had become almost ritualistic. Neither one realized how important it had become to one another. Today it provided a little stability to a bizarre situation. Challenger joined them at the table. The others followed more slowly as they paused to let the strange man catch up. They were becoming comfortable around him. His attitude was easy and appealing. He exuded natural charm that even the multitude of unanswered questions couldn't qualm. Veronica and Finn set a place for him and soon they were all seated.  
  
"Its strange. It seems as if it has been ages since I've been here, but it couldn't have been more than a few days." Said the man.  
  
"You've been gone for over two years." Malone replied.  
  
Marguerite cast him another stern cautionary glance.  
  
"Two years?" The man asked dumfounded.  
  
"Yes, its 1922." Challenger replied.  
  
"Can you tell us where you've been?" asked Veronica.  
  
The man seemed self absorbed and unresponsive.  
  
"I've lost two years." He murmured.  
  
"And has apparently gained thirty." Roxton whispered to Marguerite.  
  
Marguerite smiled at him. Finn had overheard and giggled. The sound of her laughter seemed to bring the man around. He looked at Challenger.  
  
"What has happened to me, George? The last thing I remember is falling near that damned bridge."  
  
"You remember the bridge?" asked Malone.  
  
"What bridge?" Finn asked.  
  
They all went silent for a moment. It had occurred before Finn's arrival and it wasn't an easy incident for the others to remember. Marguerite had been wounded. Summerlee, Roxton, Challenger, and Malone had plummeted into a raging river. Marguerite and Veronica had witnessed them being swept away. At first they weren't sure if any of the men had survived the fall. It had taken awhile before Veronica and Marguerite could find them again. Only Summerlee had remained unaccounted for. Needless to say, it was a memory none of them cared to bring up.  
  
"I remember everything up until that point, dear boy." The man replied.  
  
Malone winced at the term of endearment. It was one thing to hear it from a fatherly old gentleman. It was quite another coming from a younger more robust man. An uncomfortable silence engulfed the table.  
  
"I can see that my presence here is making you uncomfortable. I apologize, as this was never my intent. I surmise that my appearance is somewhat shocking to you. I confess that it shocks me as well. I can tell you that I've never felt better."  
  
"I suppose dropping thirty or so years will do that to a fellow." Roxton said.  
  
"Yes, well...perhaps I should leave." The man offered.  
  
"No, don't go. What's the matter with all of you?" demanded Veronica.  
  
"Veronica's right. This man came to us in need. He hasn't done anything to deserve this suspicion." Malone said.  
  
"Of course not." Challenger said. "Let me offer an apology from the group as a whole, if I may...Arthur. Your altered state has left us in shock, to be sure, but it is no excuse for treating you in this way. No doubt you can remember some bizarre events on this Plateau which were unsettling, to say the least. In the interim since you've been absent we've been privy to amazing occurrences, which have taught us to be wary of unknown...guests. I hope that you won't hold it against us and that you'll allow me to ask you a few questions. I'm fascinated to learn where you've been and how you've...rejuvenated. I must admit, I wouldn't mind knocking a few years off myself."  
  
The man smiled good-humouredly.  
  
"I don't mind at all. I'm afraid I probably won't be of much help, though. I honestly don't know what's happened to me."  
  
"Then perhaps we will be able to get to the bottom of it together." Challenger suggested.  
  
"If anyone can it'd be you, Challenger."  
  
Challenger nodded in agreement.  
  
"Let us begin then. You say that the last thing you remember is the bridge?" he asked.  
  
"Yes, I remember like it was yesterday, which I thought it was until you all enlightened me. Marguerite was wounded and Veronica was helping her run from those hostiles."  
  
He looked at Marguerite.  
  
"I'm glad to see you're alright." He smiled.  
  
She offered a quick and small agitated smile in return. Not at all nonplused, he looked again at Challenger and continued.  
  
"You, Roxton, and Malone were providing us cover. I was making my way to the bridge when an arrow struck me here." He motioned to the spot. "I staggered a few steps, then fell down a great ravine into a raging river. The water was moving quite rapidly. It was all I could do to stay afloat much less try and swim to a side. All I could hear was the pounding of the water. It was everywhere...I couldn't see. It was hard to breathe. I remember thinking that it was a miracle that I hadn't hit any rocks so far. Then, if possible, the roaring of the water increased. I tried in vain to swim against it. Then I was falling again. I seemed to fall forever. Then...and then I was in the jungle running from raptors until you saved me."  
  
That was the most useful information they could get from him. For hours they asked him various questions. He answered all he could to their apparent satisfaction. He remembered all about his life in London. He correctly identified family and colleagues. He knew places, times, and events. He could account for the expedition up to the Plateau, remembering the minutest detail. He even correctly told them the ingredients of the first meal he had ever prepared for them. The details of his time at the tree house, searching for a way off the Plateau, up until the incident with Drakul's warriors, were no less precise. In the end most of them were satisfied that the man could be Summerlee, but they were no further in an explanation as to his alteration. When the questions were exhausted Challenger decided that the next best step would be to examine Arthur from head to toe.  
  
"In the interest of science...Arthur." Challenger assured.  
  
"Of course, for science. I'm game if you are Challenger." He replied.  
  
He and Challenger headed towards the laboratory. Veronica and Malone followed. Veronica was convinced that the man was Arthur Summerlee. All of their questions had been answered correctly to the best of his ability. His manner was the same. He was non-threatening and didn't ask for anything. His altered appearance did raise a few questions, but as a child of the Plateau she had experienced stranger things. Veronica's support of the man was all the evidence Malone needed. Her instincts were usually right on. Malone was sure that after Challenger was done, they would all be left with no doubt one way or the other. Also, he planned on being there to document these events every step of the way.  
  
Finn, Marguerite, and Roxton remained at the table. Marguerite was finishing another cup of coffee while Roxton was working on his tea. Finn got up from the table and stretched. She wasn't used to sitting still that long.  
  
"If that man isn't Summerlee, he seems to know a great deal about him." Roxton commented.  
  
"Veronica thinks he's the real deal." Finn said.  
  
Roxton and Marguerite stared at her.  
  
"V's the Protector of the Plateau." Finn continued.  
  
"So?" asked Marguerite.  
  
"So, shouldn't her instincts guide the rest of us?" Finn wondered.  
  
"Well, Finn," said Roxton, "Veronica has led a fairly isolated life, up until now, and she tends to believe the best in people..." He paused to try and find the right way to continue.  
  
"So the answer is, No." Marguerite finished for him. "You've your own instincts, use them. What do they tell you?"  
  
"That guy is a brownnoser." Finn replied.  
  
"A what?" asked Roxton.  
  
"Sycophant" translated Marguerite.  
  
"Ah" Roxton replied.  
  
"Still, he is a hottie." Finn declared.  
  
"Hmm?" inquired Roxton.  
  
"You don't want to know." Marguerite informed him.  
  
"Ah" Roxton replied.  
  
"Maybe you need to go and gather some more information in order to decide for yourself once and for all." Marguerite suggested.  
  
"You know, I think you're right." Finn replied.  
  
She did one more stretch and trotted off to the lab. _'Sometimes it was far too easy'_ thought Marguerite.  
  
"I can't understand that girl half of the time." Roxton stated after Finn had gone.  
  
"Don't worry yourself about it. Half of the time she's not saying anything worth understanding."  
  
They smiled in agreement and went back to their drinks.

**xxxxxxxx**

****

Malone watched Challenger examine Summerlee. The scientist conducted all sorts of routine physical tests from body temperature to muscle reflexes. But, how could this prove that the man was undoubtedly their Arthur Summerlee? The young man being prodded by Challenger certainly bore little resemblance. Could his physical appearance offer a clue as to his character? Malone had a little experience with forensic science. He had attended a few lectures on the subject. At the time he thought that it would help his journalism should he have to cover any criminal cases.  
  
The thought of journalism brought to mind Marguerite and his journals. He wished that he could catch her in the act of reading them. Then she would be sorry, the sneak thief. He remembered a paper he had read on _'The Female Offender of 1909.'_ It stated that most women were not criminal. However, those that were prove most often to be occasional criminals. Then it noted that some women were activistic criminals. These women were harder to detect than men, and they were more vicious. Sound familiar? As he thought about it, Malone tried to remember the author of the paper. It took a few minutes and then it hit him. The author's name was Cesare Lombroso. Malone had read some of his other works. He had even attended a lecture based on his writings, _'Sociological Theories of Deviance_.'  
  
Lombroso claimed that certain anatomical characteristics indicate the criminal. For example, a physical characteristic, such as jaw size, could determine criminal psychopathology. Malone became excited. If this were true, all he had to do was look for these certain characteristics on the man sitting before them in order to determine whether or not he could be a criminal. It wouldn't help to find out if he was Summerlee, but it could determine if the man was a potential threat.  
  
Malone concentrated on the fellow. He looked like any other regular guy. Nothing sinister popped out in his appearance. Malone sighed and waited for an opportunity to consult with Challenger. Nor did he have long to wait. The scientist's cursory examination was over and Summerlee was sent out to supply a urine sample. No one could say that Professor Challenger wasn't thorough. Malone seized this opportunity.  
  
"Hey Challenger, I was thinking about Cesare Lombroso and characterology. You know, the relationship between physical and mental characteristics. Are you familiar with it?"  
  
Challenger was setting a few slides to view under his microscope. He did not bother to look up as he replied.  
  
"Yes, what of it?"  
  
"Well, I was thinking that we could apply the principle to figure out if this altered Summerlee has criminal tendencies." Malone replied.  
  
Veronica looked sharply at Malone. She was already convinced that the new addition to the tree house was all right. She had little doubt as to his character so far. She even accepted who he claimed to be. After all, he had the original Summerlee's knowledge, memories, and mannerisms. What else mattered? She also had to admit that the man didn't appear to have a sinister bone in his body. So searching for physical characteristics to support criminal tendencies didn't even seem feasible. She looked from Malone to Challenger. The scientist was laughing.  
  
"Cesare Lombroso lives in a pseudoscience fairyland."  
  
"What do you mean? He's written well known works in forensics." Malone defended.  
  
"Just because it's written, doesn't make it true." Challenger replied.  
  
Malone looked as if he was ready to bust and Veronica appeared to have many questions. Challenger paused a moment to collect his thoughts before continuing.  
  
"Lombroso tried to connect physical attributes such as protruding ears or a crooked nose to people who display deviant behaviors. His findings were inconsistent in most cases and even inexistent in others. Nevertheless, prison inmates displaying these telltale characteristics were sterilized due to his works. Much to his chagrin, I might add. Really, saying that a person is a criminal for having large ears is like saying someone is overly flirtatious for having blond hair."  
  
Malone blushed and Veronica laughed. The conversation about physical appearances brought a memory to Veronica's mind. One of the bearers on her parent's expedition had decided to leave them and go exploring on his own for a while. He was a restless young man who always made time to play with little Veronica. Veronica was upset that he was leaving and was afraid that she would never see the man again. 'What if he's gong so long that we don't recognize him when he comes back.' She had asked her parents. They smiled kindly back at her and assured her that everything would be fine. Veronica, in childish authority, had insisted that it wouldn't be. In order to provide comfort, her parents told her about a way of identifying an individual that would hold true throughout that individual's entire adult life. No matter how that person aged or how many scars they acquired.  
  
"My parents once told me about a way to measure a man that would identify him throughout his life."  
  
"They must have been referring to the Bertillion system." Challenger replied. "Alphonse Bertillion developed a way to formulize the dimensions of certain bony parts of the body. Once recorded and measured, those dimensions would theoretically apply to only one person and would not change throughout that individual's adult life. Of course your parents had no way of knowing this, but the Bertillion system was disproved nearly twenty years ago. In Leavenworth Penitentiary of all places."  
  
Malone became animated and enthusiastic as recognition of the events hit him.  
  
"Oh, I remember learning about that. It was the West case. You see there is this guy, Will West, and he was sentenced to the U.S. penitentiary in Leavenworth, Kansas. But, there was already a prisoner there whose Bertillion measurements matched. And get this; the other guy's name is William West. So they weren't sure who was the guilty man. In the end they used fingerprints to identify the right criminal and that was the finish of the Bertillion system. All the law enforcement agencies use fingerprints for identification now."  
  
"Yes, well I think the old system may still hold some small semblance of veracity as I suspect that Will and William are identical twins." Challenger replied.  
  
"Wouldn't their fingerprints match then?" asked Malone.  
  
"No, they're unique to every individual. The odds of any two people having the same fingerprints are one in sixty four billion." Challenger answered.  
  
"So, could we use either method to identify Summerlee?" asked Veronica.  
  
"We could certainly measure and take fingerprints from this young man, but with nothing to compare it with there really is no point." Challenger replied.  
  
"Oh yeah, I didn't think about that." Malone admitted.  
  
Arthur returned carrying a fresh urine sample, followed by Finn. He was a little embarrassed about carrying bodily fluids in a cup and attempted to hide it from the two young ladies. However, both had excellent observational skills and at least one of them had little tact.  
  
"Hey Challenger, you going to do a drug test?" asked Finn approvingly.  
  
"What?" Challenger asked perplexed.  
  
"You know, random drug test from that cup he's holding." The girl replied.  
  
"I beg your pardon." Arthur stated.  
  
Finn ignored the man and continued to enlighten Challenger.  
  
"In my time, if someone wanted to know if you were on drugs they'd test a sample of your pee. Or, if they were really wicked, they'd test some of your hair. That's because drugs stay in your hair longer than in your pee. You can test me if you want 'cause I'm clean."  
  
The others looked at her aghast.  
  
"Sure you are, Finn; there's no place for you to find that kind of thing around here anyway." Malone said.  
  
She have him her usual look of disdain.  
  
"Obviously you haven't been to the Zanga village lately. Those guys smoke some pretty weird stuff on a Saturday night, let me tell you."  
  
Challenger cleared his throat loudly.  
  
"Yes, well, I have no intention of searching for illicit material in Arthur's sample. I'm merely using it to determine the status of his health."  
  
"I appreciate that Challenger. Although I'm sure that you'll find that everything is on the up and up."  
  
"Of that I have no doubt." Challenger replied.  
  
They all were silent for a moment. Arthur shifted restlessly from foot to foot, not unlike Finn's usual impatient state.  
  
"I seem to have boundless energy. I feel that if I don't move I'll simply burst. I don't suppose we could venture out for a spell?" he asked.  
  
"Finally, someone who sees things my way." Finn said.  
  
Malone and Veronica looked at one another and shrugged. It was a nice day, so why not? The scientist noted their looks and approved. He wanted to encourage their departure. They were distracting him. He motioned towards his sprawled out research.  
  
"This is going to take some time. Why don't you all go out and take some air." Challenger suggested with a slight hint of impatience.  
  
"You don't need any help?" asked Veronica.  
  
"No, I'll be fine. Besides, Marguerite and Roxton are still here should I require any assistance. Go on, all of you." He smiled.  
  
"Thanks Challenger. You truly are great." Finn said.  
  
She shuffled the others out of the door before the scientist could change his mind. She slapped Arthur on the back as she prodded him out of the lab.  
  
"You know something? You and I are going to get along just fine."  
  
He smiled slightly back at her.

**xxxxxxxx**

****

Roxton noticed the rumbling of the elevator from where he sat on the balcony. He idly peered over the side and saw the group walk out into the jungle. Curiosity claimed him. He wondered whether he should find out where they were going or investigate Challenger's latest findings instead. He peered over at Marguerite. She was dozing in the last bit of shade the balcony had to offer on the increasingly warming day. He had to admit that the scene was quite inviting. He was tired after a sleep-deprived night of guard duty. He was momentarily tempted to join her but in the end his curiosity won out. He sighed as he made his way to the laboratory.  
  
"How goes it Challenger?" he asked.  
  
"About as well as could be expected." Challenger replied.  
  
"Does that mean what I think it does?"  
  
"I can tell you that our new guest is in fine health and appears to be rational and sane. However, I have no way to prove or disprove his identity."  
  
"I have faith in you, George. You'll think of something."  
  
"Perhaps you're right, but I'll be damned if I know what that something could be."  
  
Challenger shuffled a few medical instruments around in distracted thought. He shook his head and laughed.  
  
"What's so funny?" inquired Roxton.  
  
"Malone suggested Lombroso's theory of characterology. At this point I'm almost willing to consider it. Especially since we've no other forensic material with which to go on."  
  
"You mean fingerprints and the like?"  
  
"Yes. What I wouldn't give for a sample of our old Summerlee's fingerprints and a copy of Sir Francis Galton's paper on the subject."  
  
Roxton looked more closely at Challenger.  
  
"Sir Francis Galton? Did you know him?"  
  
"No, but I became interested in his works. I heard of him as a young man through his cousin Charles Darwin."  
  
"That's interesting. You know, I met Galton once when I was just a lad. My brother had broken one of mother's favorite crystal pitchers. Of course he blamed it on me. Galton was visiting my father at the time and was kind enough to offer his expertise. He extracted a print from the shards of the pitcher and compared it to a sample he took of ours. He had no trouble proving me innocent. Needless to say it left quite an impression. Sometime after that I studied a little on the subject. It proved to come in handy, especially during the war."  
  
Roxton paused, momentarily lost in memory.  
  
"I'd be willing to test your knowledge if only we had Summerlee's fingerprints."  
  
"We do," said a voice form the doorway.  
  
The two men turned a startled eye towards Marguerite.  
  
"You have a sample of Summerlee's fingerprints?" asked Challenger.  
  
"Yes, as a matter of fact I do." She replied.  
  
"Are you keeping files on us all?" inquired Roxton somewhat amused.  
  
"No, of course not," she replied. "Some of you aren't worth the bother."  
  
Challenger decided to ignore them and interrupt otherwise they could banter back and forth for days.  
  
"Where is it?" he asked.  
  
"Right this way."  
  
Marguerite motioned for them to follow and led them out of the laboratory.

**xxxxxxxx**

"Arthur, slow down." Finn yelled.  
  
She glanced behind her at the rapidly diminishing sight of Malone and Veronica.  
  
"I can't seem to help myself. I've never felt so alive."  
  
"Yeah, sure, great, just hold still a second so that V and Malone can catch up." Finn replied.  
  
"Oh, of course, how rude of me."  
  
He paused impatiently scanning the area. He then started walking in increasingly spanning circles as he silently railed against the slowness of others. Finn watched in obvious amusement as she wondered if his current expression mirrored her own at times. All of a sudden Arthur stopped dead in his tracks as a plant caught his eye. He pointed at it, then at the plant next to it and so on. His expression became one of wonderment as he began mumbling abstractedly.  
  
"_Distictis granulosa, Evodianthus funifer, Neckera scabridens, Polytrichadelphus magellanicus, Attalea funifera, Licania littoralis_,"  
  
Finn eyed him warily. How was she going to explain him going nuts to the others? They would probably blame her for it.  
  
"What are you babbling about?" she asked, half expecting an incoherent answer.  
  
"I'd forgotten."  
  
"Forgotten what? How to speak English?"  
  
"I'd forgotten how wonderful this place is. It's a veritable paradise, not to mention a botanist's wonderland." He replied.  
  
"I keep telling these guys how good they've got it here but they don't listen. They're all like 'we've got to find a way off the Plateau'. Take it from me, this place ain't half bad."  
  
"I couldn't agree more. You know, I..." he began.  
  
"Shh!" she interrupted.  
  
They stood still for a moment.  
  
"What is it?" whispered Arthur.  
  
"Did you hear that?"  
  
"Is it the others?"  
  
"V? Malone?" Finn whispered loudly.  
  
There was no answer. A fetid smell assaulted their nostrils.  
  
"Oh, puke." Finn moaned.  
  
She turned slowly to her left, grabbing Arthur, forcing him to do the same. She then held her breath, counted to three, and shouted.  
  
"Ape men, run!"  
  
She pulled Arthur along with her as she began to run. Then, without warning, she pushed him hard to the right. Her hefty shove caused him to fall into heavy brush. At the same time she somersaulted to the left. As she came out of the roll onto her feet she brought up her crossbow, and spun on her heel poised to fire. She took the shot hitting an ape-man square in the chest. Before it could even blink another of the crossbow's bolts landed in its neck. Finn attempted to quickly reload. However, she wasn't fast enough. Another ape-man rushed her in an understandably enraged fury. She raised her arms to ward off the inevitable blow. It never came.  
  
Arthur had regained his feet and spying Finn's vulnerable position made a mad dash to her aid. As he was unarmed, he could see no other option but to tackle the brainless brute. The force of his body caught the ape-man off guard and the two went rolling to the ground. Once Arthur's initial momentum wore off it was clear that the ape-man's brute strength was beginning to overpower the brash man. Finn decided to remedy this by jumping into the fray. Soon the two of them began to have the upper hand. That is until a third ape-man decided to help its tribesman. All they could see were hairy arms. Nauseous smells and hot slobber bombarded the unfortunate duo. The sounds that emanated from the humanoid beasts were vicious barks and growls that were human enough in quality as to make their spines cringe.  
  
Finn grabbed at her opponent's neck. She twisted it back as far as she could. She then spared a glance towards Arthur. He had his opponent's wrist bent at an odd angle. A second later they all heard a sickening pop as the wrist gave way followed by an unnatural scream. Arthur's opponent reared back in anguish. It then raised its other arm menacingly before baring its teeth in order to deliver a nasty bite aimed at the young man's jugular. Arthur tried to raise his legs but they wouldn't budge as they were firmly planted under the beast. As it opened its vile smelling sharp fanged mouth it offered a hideous grimace followed by a premature victory cry over its defeated victim.  
  
The cry halted in mid stride and the creature inexplicably slumped over, further pinning Arthur down. A loud 'bang' emanated through the jungle and then silence. There were no more snarls or growls, no shuffling, not even the sound of a single bird or rustling breeze. Arthur tried to move but the weight of the ape-man prevented it. Trapped, with no apparent way out, he began to panic. It did not last long as the beast was suddenly removed from atop of him. Malone gave him a hand up. As he rose he saw Veronica pull her knife from his opponent's back.  
  
"Are you okay?" Malone asked.  
  
"I am now." Arthur replied.  
  
"Maybe next time you won't wander so far ahead." Veronica scolded at Finn.  
  
"It was my fault, really." Arthur declared.  
  
"Nice try, but Finn knows better." Veronica insisted.  
  
"Yeah, hold your breath. Queen thick-head won't listen anyways." Finn said.  
  
"The important thing is that everyone is safe now." Malone said in an attempt to avoid further conflict. "Maybe we should call it a day." He suggested as he noted Finn and Veronica's icy glares.  
  
"Couldn't we linger a little longer? Miss Finn was telling me earlier that there is a lovely spot for swimming nearby." Arthur inquired.  
  
"It's not a good idea today, I'm afraid. It's getting late and we don't want to be out here after dark." Ned replied.  
  
Veronica noted Finn's irritated attitude as well as Arthur's crestfallen expression at having to return home at this time. She could care less about the former but wanted to sooth the latter.  
  
"How about if we go to the swimming hole tomorrow?"  
  
"That sounds lovely. If it is no trouble, that is." Arthur replied.  
  
"No trouble at all." Ned said.  
  
"I'm in." Finn declared.  
  
"Big surprise," mumbled Veronica. "Its settled then. Let's get out of here."  
  
Veronica took the lead. The others followed. It was a satisfied group that left the tattered ape-men bodies behind and headed back to the safety of the tree house.

**xxxxxxxx**

****

Marguerite led Roxton and Challenger to her room. Challenger paused at the doorway as the other two walked right in. It suddenly occurred to him that in the four years that they had all lived together he had never noticed her room before. In fact, as far as he could recall he'd never before been in her room. He looked around inquisitively. It was very nice. The room was light and airy, tastefully decorated, and appeared comfortable and luxuriant to the extreme. He wondered how she managed to find opulence in such a rustic and remote setting. If it weren't for the magnificent jungle vista he'd swear that he was back in civilization. His own room seemed like a dark dank dingy hole in comparison.  
  
"Don't be shy, George, come on in." Marguerite said.  
  
Roxton sat on the bed and leaned back leisurely.  
  
"Yes, you don't want to miss this. We'll finally get to see where she hides her secret files."  
  
Marguerite raised an eyebrow and slightly frowned at his lackadaisical manner.  
  
"That goes to show what little you know."  
  
She enjoyed his laughter as she went to the wall directly opposite from the doorway. Upon it was a painting of a delicate orchid housed in a plainly elegant silver frame. She pointed to it.  
  
"Voila."  
  
Roxton raised himself slightly upon his elbows.  
  
"Its very pretty but we didn't come here to admire your art collection."  
  
Challenger entered the room for a closer look.  
  
"Is that one of Summerlee's?" he asked.  
  
"Yes. I happened upon him one day while he was painting it. I told him how much I admired it and he presented it to me right there on the spot." Marguerite replied smiling fondly at the memory.  
  
"It's a very good likeness." Challenger stated approvingly, noting the scientific details.  
  
"That's all fine and well but what about the fingerprint?" Roxton asked.  
  
"He was painting when he handed it to me." Marguerite answered.  
  
"And?" persisted Roxton.  
  
"And he had paint on his fingers."  
  
Marguerite tenderly pulled the painting off the wall and removed it from the frame. On the back was a hastily written inscription. One could tell that it was done in the spur of the moment as it was slightly smudged. _'To my dear Marguerite, Nature knows the beauty of life and shares it with those who have a fondness of finer things. With love, Arthur Summerlee_.' In addition, at the bottom right hand corner, in the same brilliant color as the orchid on the front, was a perfectly preserved fingerprint.  
  
"Excellent." Challenger stated. "Now all we have to do is compare it with a print from Arthur the younger."  
  
"Pardon me for asking, George, but wouldn't it stand to reason that if his body has changed his fingerprints might have as well?" asked Roxton.  
  
"I've considered that. If the man is Summerlee grown young the prints will be the same as they never change throughout one's entire life." His eyes lightened and he laughed a little as he continued. "On the other hand, if he is a pod person, as Finn suggests, well...there is really only one way to find out."  
  
"Let's get on with it then. You do have a print with which to compare, don't you?" Marguerite asked, noting the visionary's hesitancy.  
  
"Why, no. I didn't take one."  
  
"Then what was all this fuss about? We'll have to wait until he and the others return."  
  
"Not necessarily," replied Roxton. "I'll bet we can lift one from the lab."  
  
"His specimen cup." Challenger muttered.  
  
"What was that, George?" asked Roxton.  
  
"Earlier he provided a urine sample. Only he touched the cup. I only handled it by using instruments, as I didn't want anything to taint the sample. We should have no problem obtaining a print from that cup."  
  
"Fine, then, how long do you think it'll take to compare the two?" Roxton inquired.  
  
"Of course I'm no expert, so comparing all those lines may take quite awhile." Challenger replied.  
  
"You only need to match twelve points." Marguerite stated.  
  
They looked at her in askance so she elaborated.  
  
"If the minutia are the same in twelve points between two fingerprints, it suffices to provide positive identification."  
  
The two men stared at her in a stupor.  
  
"What? You think you're the only ones familiar with Galton's details?"  
  
Knowing her shady past it really wasn't difficult to believe that she possessed a familiarity with certain aspects of law enforcement. They took the painting of the orchid with them as they made their way back to the laboratory. Immediately they went to work  
  
Challenger poked about the lab searching for a soft brush. Meanwhile, Roxton helped Marguerite grind a small bit of graphite into a fine powder. Once everything was ready, they dusted the sample cup. All three looked on expectantly but were immediately disappointed. There were no fingerprints to be found.  
  
"Is that possible?" inquired Roxton.  
  
"Honestly, I don't know." Challenger replied.  
  
They both turned to Marguerite.  
  
"Don't look at me. I don't have the answers to everything, that's George's department."  
  
"It appears as if we will indeed have to wait for the others to return." Challenger stated.  
  
"At least we won't have long to wait." Roxton replied.  
  
They heard laughing as they followed Roxton's gaze out the window towards their returning companions. Straight away, it was apparent that the camaraderie between the members had grown perceptibly. Marguerite looked at Challenger and Roxton with concern.  
  
"Perhaps we shouldn't ask for his print up front. Maybe we should be discreet about it."  
  
"You mean go behind his back?" Roxton accused.  
  
"Veronica has already accepted him and where she leads Malone and Finn will follow. Our suspicions may upset her. As for that man, he has no idea that we have a way to prove his identity, and I for one think its best that way."  
  
"She does have some good points there, John." Challenger said.  
  
"I still think it'd be better to bring this out into the open." Roxton insisted.  
  
Marguerite placed herself in front of Roxton, forcing him to focus on her in order to get her point across.  
  
"You saw Veronica defend him this morning. Look at them down there. They are thick as thieves."  
  
Roxton looked and had to agree. He nodded his assent.  
  
"What do you propose?" he asked.  
  
"All we need is a little patience and say a fine smooth glass and a greasy meal. Feel like cooking dinner, John?"

**xxxxxxxx**

****

"That was a fine meal Roxton." Malone stated.  
  
He leaned back in his chair and looked about the table contentedly.  
  
"Next to bush chicken Arthur I'd say that your raptor ribs are my favorite Plateau dish." Malone continued.  
  
Roxton smiled at him appreciatively but offered no reply. He was too occupied with considering how they were going to sneak a certain someone's fingerprints. The prospect made him anxious and irritable. He hated subterfuge. He glanced over at Marguerite. She didn't seem bothered at all. How could she stand it? He continued to watch her as she began to nonchalantly clear the table with her usual effortless gait. _'So that's how she's going to get them.'_ Roxton thought. He began to relax as events unfolded and started to make sense to him. Then Arthur began to help her gather the dishes, much to Roxton's chagrin. The hunter evilly eyed him. He could barely contain the urge to smack the insolent man. Luckily, Challenger's voice diverted his attention.  
  
"Do you think you could lend a hand for a moment, John? There are a couple of things I'd like to move in the lab which require an extra set of muscles."  
  
"Sure, George." Roxton replied.  
  
The hunter restlessly caught a glimpse of Marguerite. She was holding a glass. A myriad of questions assaulted his brain. Was it the right one? How was she going to whisk it away to the lab without alerting the others? He couldn't help but appear a little worried. Marguerite smiled assuredly back at him. She then winked. Before he could wonder what she had in mind, he noticed that she had switched her attention to Malone. Almost as if on cue the journalist spoke.  
  
"I'll be glad to help you too, Challenger."  
  
_'This won't do at all,'_ thought Roxton, _'The whole point of getting down to the lab is to sneak around the others.'  
_  
Completely unsettled, Roxton kept his focus on Marguerite. She didn't seem worried about Malone's offer at all. In fact, she looked as if she had expected it. With a half smile on her lips she turned to Finn and rolled her eyes, slightly gesturing towards Malone. Finn cast an irritated glare at the journalist.  
  
"Butt out." Finn huffed at him.  
  
"What did you say?" Malone asked.  
  
"Your name isn't John. Challenger didn't ask you for anything, so butt out."  
  
"I was just trying to be helpful." He retorted.  
  
"Yeah, right. Just being nosy is more like it." Finn said. "You can't even carry a skimpy basket of fruit. I doubt that you'd be much help."  
  
Malone crossed his arms in annoyance.  
  
"I knew you wouldn't understand. Its just another one of those many things you know nothing about." He said condescendingly.  
  
"Are you calling me stupid?" Finn asked, her voice rising in shrill anger.  
  
Malone looked down his nose at her and smirked.  
  
"If the shoe fits..."  
  
Finn's thin layer of patience had worn out.  
  
"That's it," she yelled. "I can take you!"  
  
With that the angry girl jumped out of her chair and onto the table, greatly disrupting the setting. She managed to leave a couple of dishes upright as she flung herself at Malone. The astounded journalist was knocked to the floor and was barely able to raise his defenses before Finn drew back a fist aimed at a nasty blow. Before she could deliver, a hand grabbed her fist and a voice yelled in her ear.  
  
"ENOUGH!"  
  
It was Veronica. Finn was taken aback by Veronica's stony gaze. However her anger hadn't quite ebbed and she glared back as she spied Malone from the corner of her eye.  
  
"He had it coming." Finn angrily declared.  
  
"I don't care what you think he had coming. I won't stand for this kind of behavior in my home!" Veronica replied.  
  
"You alright Malone?" Roxton asked the startled journalist from across the room.  
  
"Yeah, just fine." Malone grunted.  
  
Arthur made his way to Malone and offered him a hand up.  
  
"Thanks." Malone muttered.  
  
Arthur nodded and patted Malone on the back as he glanced around the room.  
  
"Dear me, what a mess." Arthur commented.  
  
"Yes it is, and don't look to me to clean it up." Marguerite stated.  
  
"I agree. I think the one responsible for the mess should take care of it." Veronica firmly stated to Finn.  
  
The younger girl sheepishly nodded as she realized the intensity of the damage she had caused. Hardly a dish remained on the table and most of the chairs were overturned. She hung her head as she prepared to follow through with her punishment.  
  
"Hold on Finn. I'll give you a hand. After all, it was as much my fault as yours." Malone offered.  
  
"How do you figure that, Ned?" Veronica asked slightly surprised.  
  
"I said some things I shouldn't have." He replied.  
  
Malone held his hand out to Finn.  
  
"Truce?"  
  
She smiled at him and took his hand.  
  
"Truce." Finn replied. "But next time you won't get off so easy."  
  
"Next time I'll be ready."  
  
"I think that's our cue to leave." Challenger mumbled.  
  
He motioned Roxton to follow him towards the laboratory. Roxton nodded his consent.  
  
"As I'm no longer occupied I think I'll join you boys." Marguerite added breezily.  
  
Roxton noticed that she was still holding a glass and that she held it carefully by the brim. She airily walked by him and he reveled in her easy manner.  
  
"Mind if I join you?" Arthur asked.  
  
_'Damn it.'_ Roxton thought. _'Can't he leave us alone in peace?'  
_  
"Not at all." Marguerite answered much to Roxton's surprise.  
  
How could they examine the glass in front of him without raising suspicions? Then, almost as if planned, Veronica interrupted.  
  
"Actually, if you could spare a minute Arthur, I'd love to have your opinion on a painting I'm working on."  
  
Arthur paused in mid stride. He unconsciously clenched his fists. A moment of intense irritation clouded his handsome features as he glanced longingly towards the departing trio bound for the lab. It immediately vanished as he turned and faced Veronica.  
  
"Of course, I'd be delighted." Arthur stated as Veronica led him to her painting.

**xxxxxxxx**

****

"What would you have done if Veronica hadn't stopped him from following us?" Roxton inquired. The anxiousness of the evening seeped through his tone.  
  
"Oh I'm sure I would have thought of something." She replied flippantly.  
  
He raised a doubtful eyebrow demanding a more serious answer.  
  
"It would only raise his suspicions if we refused to let him come along." She managed to reply in a fast and impatient way.  
  
"Marguerite is right, John. She did exactly what was needed to be done, and very well too, I might add."  
  
"Thank you, George."  
  
Challenger smiled and nodded as he motioned for Marguerite to place the glass on one of the tables. The three of them gazed at it for a moment before going to work. Challenger carefully began dusting it. Roxton stole a glance at Marguerite. The more he thought about it the more he realized that her performance this evening really was amazing. She caught him staring and smirked. He returned it, lowering his lashes seductively. She lowered hers in return, challenging him. However, as always, the moment was interrupted.  
  
"This can't be." Challenger said.  
  
"What is it?" asked Marguerite.  
  
"There is not a single useful print on this glass."  
  
"That's not possible." Marguerite answered. "I raised it to the light before bringing it down here. I saw several of them. They were clearly imprinted."  
  
"Well they're not here now." Challenger insisted.  
  
"Could it be our methodology? Perhaps our technique for dusting isn't effective." Roxton offered.  
  
"Bollocks. I think I can handle a simple procedure such as dusting for prints. You've had some experience with this kind of thing, did you see any error in my method?" Challenger growled.  
  
Marguerite and Roxton weren't exactly sure as to which of them the disgruntled scientist was talking. Both shook their heads no.  
  
"Of course not." Challenger agreed.  
  
"What do we do now?" asked Roxton.  
  
"I suppose we'll have to try again." Challenger answered.  
  
"What's the point?" asked Marguerite. "We've tried collecting twice and failed both times.  
  
"And I don't want to have to sit through a repeat performance of this evening." Roxton added.  
  
"You're right about that. Malone might not make it next time." Marguerite laughed.  
  
"I'm not willing to give up just yet." Challenger stated stubbornly.  
  
"We're not giving up. We'll simply observe from the background." Marguerite replied.  
  
"And if an opportunity presents itself we'll bring you another sample. We just won't stage another fiasco. Agreed?" Roxton added.  
  
"Agreed." Marguerite confirmed.  
  
"Oh, all right." Challenger agreed.  
  
Roxton appreciatively watched Marguerite gracefully make her exit. Something wasn't right with the new Arthur and he just knew it. He wasn't going to lie to himself and claim that the looks the young man gave Marguerite at times didn't drive him to the brink of insanity. Surely it wasn't only jealousy that drove him to dislike the fellow. It was something else too, wasn't it? Roxton shook his head in order to clear his thoughts. It really didn't matter what the reasons were, he thought sagely. No matter the cause the hunter would keep a close watch on young Arthur.

**xxxxxxxx**

****

Roxton awoke with a start. Cold sweat poured down the back of his neck. He peered around the room in a desperate attempt to regain his bearings. It was night. He was in his room. All was quiet. He took a few deep breaths, willing himself to relax.  
  
'_Damn'_ he thought, _'another nightmare.'  
_  
Roxton was used to troubled dreams. At one time in his life they occurred nearly every time he closed his eyes. That was right after he had accidentally shot and killed his brother William in a failed attempt at a rescue from an attacking ape. The dreams became more troubled and vicious after the untimely death of his father close on the heels of William's death.  
  
"Guilt," whispered the gossips of his upper circle in reference to his troubled dreams. "Tragedy," whispered his mother and friends. _'Justice is more like it.'_ He thought bitterly to himself.  
  
He traveled far and wide hoping to put enough time and distance between himself and those tragic events. He had thought that the more remote and difficult the journey, the easier it would be to forget the past. It didn't work. He did learn to conquer the night terrors while staying at a Buddhist monastery. They rarely occurred by the time he had joined Challenger's expedition up the Amazon and onto the Plateau. Even after their only known exit route had been destroyed and they became trapped on the Plateau the nightmares did not return. In fact, he found an odd sense of fulfillment stranded with his companions. As relationships developed further, barring a few occasions, he could honestly say that he was happy and content. At times, he could even see himself spending the rest of his life on the Plateau. That was until a short while ago.  
  
The Plateau had always been a strange and unusual place. But never, up until that time had it ever made him question his own sense of reality. Roxton was a man who trusted what he could touch and see. He was a practical man who demanded a certain sense of propriety from the reality around him. A short time ago his sense of reality was threatened. Bizarre disturbances of time and space rippled over the entire Plateau. These odd temporal waves transported the present into both the past and future. He and his companions were separated. The worst of which was when Marguerite disappeared from his side, right in front of his eyes. She had been transported to a different time. He was left alone and practically unarmed to fend against a group of hostile conquistadors of all things. He found out later that Marguerite had been in danger of being sacrificed by ancient druids. Although he had no way of knowing what had become of her at the time, later, the knowledge of her perilous predicament with no way for him to intervene was almost too much to bare. He still wasn't sure exactly what had happened or how everyone made it back. George had explained it of course, but he was too relieved to have everyone reunited to really pay attention.  
  
After that the nightmares started again. He would wake up and not be able to trust what he saw around him. Thoughts such as _'sure this room is around me, but are the others still here?'_ would torture his sanity. He spent countless sleepless nights guarding the others from exactly what he could not say. Eventually Marguerite figured out why he wasn't sleeping and confronted him. It did not take much prodding in order for him to confide in her. She was an easy confidant. She was never critical or judgmental and was always willing to listen. He immediately felt better and mentally kicked himself for not seeking her out sooner. The nightmares once again disappeared. Until this night, that is. He felt the familiar fears and doubts rack his brain. The 'what ifs' mounted and inevitably made their way to Marguerite. He knew he wouldn't be able to rest until he satisfied himself as to her safety. Once the decision was made he quickly and silently got up and put on his pants. He then crept stealthily out of his room.  
  
He didn't have to bother with a candle. The moon was waxing and nearly full. Shimmering silvery moonlight filtered through the tree house casting long shadows. The effect was eerie and unsettling to Roxton's already frazzled nerves. With a slightly trembling hand he reached out and drew back the curtain she used as a makeshift door. He quietly gave a sigh of relief as he saw her there in a peaceful state of slumber. Her still form was bathed in moonlight. He smiled fondly at her tranquil appearance. He also marveled at her picturesque beauty and mysterious air enhanced by the silvery beams. Without a word he made his way to her side. He couldn't help but gently brush back a stray strand of her hair before tenderly kissing her forehead. Now that he was assured of her safety and had verified his sense of reality he could relax and try to go back to sleep. He cast a lingering parting glance at her still form from the doorway before making his exit. _'How much easier things would be if we could just always be together.'_ He thought. But she wasn't ready to openly declare the status of their relationship to the others. He could be patient. A good hunter had to be.  
  
A movement out of the corner of his eye caused Roxton to pause and stare as a form appeared before him from out of the shadows. It was Arthur. The hunter's muscles involuntarily clenched at the sight of the fellow. He truly was the last person Roxton wanted to see. The man had an odd glint in his eyes as he stared the hunter down. Roxton held the stare, haughtily refusing to give way an inch.  
  
"I say old man, ogling women in their sleep is a nasty habit for a nobleman." Arthur stated.  
  
"And I daresay creeping about in the shadows is right up your alley." Roxton retorted.  
  
"Someone has to protect Marguerite from worldly evils and the like." Arthur replied.  
  
What unseen force held Roxton back from pummeling the bugger know one could say for sure. The suggestion that his ladylove would ever need protecting from him was unthinkable and, coupled with the thought that this foul creature was stalking her, abhorrent. Roxton could no longer focus on what was being said. He clenched his teeth as the pounding roar of blood rushing to his head deafened him. Years of a noble upbringing unconsciously took their toll as his spine stiffened and the old familiar cold casualness of society controlled his actions. Although he was primarily a man of action, especially out here where inaction meant a certain death, the aloofness of society often claimed him when events shocked him beyond rational control. So there he stood. Stiff backed and arrogant, peering down his nose at an inferior being. To all appearances he stood like an impenetrable brick wall. Only a slight gleam in his eyes belied the smoldering turmoil and hot passionate hatred lying right underneath a thin veneer of civilization.  
  
"Marguerite knows how to handle most things on her own and she can always count on her true friends without having to stoop to the likes of you." Roxton managed to spit out vehemently.  
  
"Stooping?" Arthur replied with a sneer. "I can assure you that I'll have her groveling at my feet before I'm through."  
  
A red haze flashed before Roxton's eyes and he made a guttural almost beastly snarl as he prepared to attack. A hand from behind him lightly touched his bare shoulder.  
  
"John?"  
  
Roxton turned rapidly with his fist still poised to strike. He immediately dropped his arm and the blood drained from his head as recognition hit.  
  
"Marguerite," he barely whispered.  
  
Marguerite peered at Roxton uncertainly. He looked terrible, almost as if he were ill. She tried to guide him towards the moonlit drenched common area in order to better assess him. However, he swiftly blocked her progress. In an elegant dance like maneuver he moved her behind him and took up a defensive posture. He kept her between himself and a wall while he scanned the shadows for Arthur. However, his adversary was no longer there. In fact there was nothing. Roxton wondered how Arthur managed to vanish that fast. Then the doubts surfaced. Had he been there at all or was it another nightmare?  
  
"What is it?" Marguerite whispered in his ear.  
  
She still allowed a hand to linger on him. His protective actions concerned her. She had learned to trust his instincts unconditionally under normal circumstances but he didn't appear to be quite himself at the moment. Something had bothered him, maybe even to the point of making him ill. She had seen it happen to him before.  
  
"Arthur..."he began.  
  
"Hush. Its okay," she interrupted.  
  
He turned to face her and she simply nodded. He didn't have to explain anymore. She had seen a rapidly dispersing shadow and made the connection. Something wasn't right with Arthur and she knew it. The fellow was familiar and yet he wasn't. Something was definitely amiss. She'd be willing to wager on it. If he turned out to be their Arthur she'd drink Challenger's next experiment, she silently vowed. She moved closer to Roxton's side, ducking under his arm, which automatically made its way around her. He began to relax a little and his eyes never left her as she led him to her room. _'That man attempted to attack Roxton',_ she thought, _'that means he's on to us'._ She tightened her grip protectively. They would have to keep a closer watch and prepare a counter attack. Tonight they'd be safe together. Tomorrow they would warn George and come up with some sort of plan. She idly wondered if Veronica would believe her. _'Fingerprints be damned. I don't know you mister, but I know who you aren't._'

**xxxxxxxx**

****

Roxton heard the rumbling of the elevator. Something in the back of his mind nagged him to open his eyes but for the life of him he could not remember what for. He stretched, feeling luxuriant as he lingered in between the state of dreaming and wakefulness. He turned over onto his side, not yet ready to give up his happy mode, when a fragrant scent caught his attention. He inhaled deeply, relishing the sensation before the source of the scent became apparent to his sleep addled brain. His eyes snapped open and he sat up rapidly as he reached out to the empty spot where Marguerite had been. He glanced about, realizing that he was in her room and that she was not there. Then he remembered hearing the rumble of the elevator. He looked out the window. The sun was high in the sky. It was well over the tree canopy. It was late. He wondered if the others had left him here alone. He shook his head. No, Marguerite wouldn't of left without telling him first, of that he was certain. He resisted the urge to call out for her. The others might still be around. He ran his hands through his hair, shaking off the last remnants of sleep. For a moment he stood by the door listening for anyone who might have been nearby. He heard nothing. He exited the room and scanned the outer area for inhabitants. He saw no one. All was still and quiet. He hurriedly made his way to his room and grabbed a shirt.  
  
While in his room he noticed that his hat and guns were there rather than in their normal spot near the elevator. Events from last night rushed through his mind. The memories were unsettling and the current silence and misplacement of his well ordered things were beginning to creep him out. He took one of the revolvers from his holster and examined it. It was perfect as usual. It was clean, primed, and ready to fire. The revolver felt good in his hand. The grip was familiar and self-assuring. He decided to keep it with him as he searched the tree house. He retraced his steps and headed to the common area. It was still empty. He made his way to the dining table where he found a note. He used the tip of the revolver to draw the note close enough to read. It was written to Marguerite in Veronica's hand. It said that she and the others had gone to check the windmill and were then planning to head to the swimming hole afterwards. It also suggested that he and Marguerite should join them as soon as he had returned. Roxton frowned. He had not gone anywhere and as far as he could tell Marguerite was not here. He griped his revolver tighter as he wondered if this was Arthur's handiwork. If that vile pretender had done something to her he would not live long enough to regret it. The hunter cocked the revolver as he prepared to search the rest of the tree house more diligently. He then heard a noise from Challenger's laboratory. He grimly smirked as he stealthily made his way towards the author of the noise. As he reached the bottom step he could see a figure hunched over and searching for something in one of the lower cabinets. Roxton could not identify the person. However, he was not about to take any chances and targeted.  
  
"Hold it right there" he stated coldly.  
  
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" a familiar voice replied.  
  
"Sorry, I thought you were someone else."  
  
"I should bloody well hope so. You'd live to regret it if you ever purposely pointed that thing at me." Marguerite replied.  
  
He placed the revolver on a counter and made his way toward her. She carefully observed him. He looked much better than he had last night. She did her best to mask her emotions behind an irritated front. It wouldn't do to let him know how worried he had made her.  
  
"What are you doing down here anyway?" Roxton asked.  
  
"I'm looking for that serum we made the other day."  
  
"Oh, really? Planning to use it on anyone I know?"  
  
"The jury's still out on that one." She replied.  
  
"I see. So when did you plan to use it on young Arthur?" Roxton stated.  
  
"I wasn't planning to use it at all quite honestly. I just thought I'd have it ready. Just in case." Marguerite coolly replied.  
  
"MmHmm...and were you going to let anyone else in on your 'not so quite honestly' plan?" Roxton asked recognizing a potential scheme.  
  
"Sure. George knows. In fact he helped work out some of the finer details."  
  
Roxton appeared a little surprised that she would confide and plan with Challenger and leave him completely out of the loop. Her astute observational abilities quickly picked up his sentiments. She lowered her eyes unable to take the lost and slightly hurt look in his eyes.  
  
"You were asleep and we needed a plan," she explained.  
  
"You could have woken me," he insisted.  
  
"It wasn't as if I didn't try. You were completely out of it."  
  
Marguerite refused to add that he looked so peaceful and content she didn't have the heart to wake him.  
  
"Alright," he conceded. "You can fill me in now."  
  
"Certainly. George is keeping an eye on him now. I'm going to prepare a few more doses of the serum so that the three of us will each have some. Then one of us will keep Arthur in sight until he slips up and we can dose him without alarming the others."  
  
Marguerite said the name 'Arthur' thickly like something caught on her tongue. She suddenly realized that she never could think of calling him Summerlee. He seemed more like Challenger's insect rather than the human being she cared for. Roxton interrupted her thought.  
  
"You've got to be kidding. That's the plan? You let Challenger and the others go out with a maniac?"  
  
"They'll be fine. Besides its us he's after not them."  
  
"You mean he's after you," he quietly corrected.  
  
Roxton looked around, almost as if the statement might conjure ill effects. He took a protective step towards her.  
  
"You're the one he attacked, John," she answered in the same tone.  
  
Roxton's eyes narrowed as he remembered the uncouth way in which Arthur fervently spat out threats against Marguerite.  
  
"You're sure that you don't recognize him. He's not someone from your past?"  
  
She narrowed her eyes in return.  
  
"I'm not the only one here with a past."  
  
"Touché," he smiled as he thought it best to change the subject. "My hat and weapons were out of their normal place."  
  
"I was wondering when you'd get around to that. I was beginning to doubt your hunting and observational skills, but then again you are such a creature of habit. I put them in your room. The others assumed I was the one sleeping late and that you'd gone out hunting."  
  
"Very devious, my dear."  
  
"Yes, well I do have a reputation to keep. But for now, if you will excuse me, I have to finish up with this serum."  
  
She returned to her task. Roxton paced about uncertain how to occupy his time. Marguerite knew she would have to give him a task before he drove himself to distraction. It wouldn't take long before he worried himself to death about the safety of Challenger and the others. She decided to kill two birds with one stone. She took the original dose of serum and prepared a hypodermic syringe. She then wrapped it in a cloth pouch.  
  
"John, why don't you seek out the others and give this to Challenger. I can manage the rest of this on my own."  
  
He knew she had devised this scheme as a distraction and loved her all the more for it. He took the pouch from her hand, letting his fingers linger as they brushed against hers. He then leaned in and tenderly kissed her.  
  
"You never cease to amaze me."  
  
As he left the lab she whispered to his back.  
  
"The sentiment goes both ways."

**xxxxxxxx**

****

Roxton stepped off the elevator and took a reassuring breath. She'd be fine here. Their foe was far away and under the watchful eye of Challenger. He shook his head to clear a few negative thoughts. Challenger could be extremely resourceful and observant, as long as nothing scientifically interesting distracted him. In any event he'd soon be with them to keep an eye on the man himself. He quickened his pace toward the gate of the electric fence. It was a fine day. The weather was clear and not overly hot. He might even indulge in a swim once he caught up with the others. Too bad Marguerite wasn't with him. Perhaps she'd join them once she finished up in the lab. He smiled at the thought. As he reached the gate he was so lost in thought that he almost ran into Finn.  
  
"Hey, watch it." Finn cried out.  
  
"Oh, sorry," Roxton replied.  
  
Finn could never hold a temper against Roxton. He was such a big softy. She smiled at him.  
  
"That's okay big guy. What's your hurry anyway?"  
  
"Actually, I was just on my way to meet up with you and the others. Are they right behind you?"  
  
"No. V, Challenger, and Malone are at the swimming hole, but Arthur disappeared. I came back to see if he was here. Like, maybe he came to get you and Marguerite?"  
  
"I haven't seen him. He isn't here."  
  
Finn looked perplexed and wondered where the young man could of gone. Roxton frowned and cast an uneasy glance back to the tree house. He then looked down, trying to figure out what his next move should be. Something caught his eye. He looked at the ground all around him. He became excited as things became all too clear. He pulled his rifle around and scanned the area. His anger rose. Finn took a step back, clearly unnerved.  
  
"What's the matter with you?" she asked.  
  
Roxton didn't seem to hear her or even notice that she was there. He continued to scan the area with his rifle.  
  
"Have you lost your mind?" she persisted.  
  
Again he didn't acknowledge her. She saw a gleam in his eyes and could tell that he had come to some sort of decision. He slightly lowered his rifle but kept it close and ready to fire. His face was full of wrathful resolve. He nodded somberly to himself as he suddenly turned to his right. He took one more look at the ground in order to confirm his suspicions. Roxton was an expert tracker. In the past few years he had come to know each of his companion's tracks as well as if they were his own. Some he knew even better. As he looked down he saw the familiar spoor, save one. There was one set that he should not have recognized so well. Nevertheless, that set of tracks should have been there, but it wasn't. There was no trace that Arthur had touched the ground at all. Finn heard Roxton mutter before he darted off into the jungle.  
  
"That bloody son of a bitch! I should have shot him when I had the chance."  
  
"Hey! Who? Roxton, where are you going?" Finn yelled.  
  
Marguerite heard Finn's yell and rushed to look out the window. She made it in time to see Roxton fade into the jungle foliage. Once he was completely out of sight she switched her attention to Finn. The girl looked torn between following Roxton and returning to the tree house. She hesitated, turning from one direction to the other.  
  
"Finn, what happened?" Marguerite shouted down to her.  
  
Finn looked relieved to hear her voice.  
  
"Its Roxton. I think he's lost it. One minute he's looking at the dirt and the next he's running off yelling about some son of a bitch."  
  
"Stay right there."  
  
Marguerite put out the flame to the Bunsen burner, hurriedly gathered her guns, and headed out to meet Finn.  
  
"Now tell me exactly what happened." Marguerite demanded as she stepped off the elevator and made her way towards the girl.  
  
"I told you. Roxton looked at the ground and then ran off that way." Finn said as she pointed towards the direction.  
  
Marguerite looked at the ground but didn't notice anything unusual. 'What did you see?" she thought.  
  
"Look at the ground. Do you see anything suspicious?" she demanded of Finn.  
  
Finn glanced casually around. She didn't see the point and thought all of this was a waste of time.  
  
"No. Let's just follow him already."  
  
Marguerite ignored the statement.  
  
"Why did you come back without the others?" Marguerite asked, firmly resolved to get to the bottom of the situation.  
  
"Why are you questioning me? Roxton is the one who went loony tunes."  
  
"Finn!" Marguerite huffed impatiently.  
  
"Okay, okay. I came back to look for Arthur. He left us soon after we were all at the swimming hole. I thought he might of come to get you and Roxton so I followed."  
  
_'Now we're getting somewhere.'_ Marguerite thought. _'It has something to do with that vile man. Last night he was after John and now he may have succeeded in getting him alone.'_ Panic threatened to engulf her at the possible consequences. She firmly put it aside. She would have to keep a clear head in order to be of any help. _'John saw something on the ground. What would he have noticed, what would of caught my hunter's attention? Of course, he would be looking for spoor.'  
_  
"Finn, look around. How many tracks do you see?"  
  
Finn did as she was told and sorted out the various tracks, counting as she went along. Marguerite did the same. They could easily identify the familiar shoe prints of their companions. In fact none were unfamiliar.  
  
"Wait a minute," Finn began.  
  
But Marguerite did not wait. With a creative stream of oaths and curses she made her way through the jungle. She now knew where Roxton had gone and she hoped she could intercept him before it was too late. Finn stood alone and confused. She had never seen Marguerite so upset and out of control. She didn't understand why Roxton, who was usually like a big teddy bear, was scurrying through the jungle with murderous intent. Finally, she couldn't figure out how Arthur could have walked around with them and not leave any traces. She debated going back to the swimming hole in order to get the others. If anyone could figure things out it would be Challenger. Or, maybe Veronica could tell her what was going on. Hell, she's even settle for Malone's company. As much as she wanted their companionship, a little voice in the back of her head told her that she didn't have the time. She took one last lingering look towards the path to the swimming hole. _'Something tells me that you guys are going to owe me big time.'_ With a huge sigh and a roll of her eyes she followed Roxton and Marguerite's clear and rash trail through the jungle.

**xxxxxxxx**

****

Roxton tore through the jungle until he came to the expected clearing. He violently ripped aside a creeper vine as he scanned the area by rifle point. He barely took the time to notice the hand carved stone steps or the partially overgrown manmade monoliths. He had been here before and was already familiar with the ancient temple's design. He made his way up the steps, carefully keeping his guard.  
  
The temple seemed deserted but looks could be deceiving, not at all unlike his first encounter with the place. He noted a couple of slender structures meant to house fire, an offering of flame to a heathen deity. Roxton went up to one of them and gingerly felt it. It was cold and lifeless. Flames appeared whenever the temple was in use. She had told all of them that much. Roxton paid no further attention to the flame holders and continued his search. He was right about his suspicions. He had no doubt about it.  
  
He paused a moment to wipe the sweat from his brow. _'Where are you,'_ he growled to himself. The sooner he took care of the matter, the happier he would be. A soft breeze brushed the back of his neck. He again raised his rifle and continued on his way. He began to walk along the perimeter of the ruins. He made his way slowly and cautiously. The last thing he wanted to do was fall into some hidden hole or trap. Two-thirds of the way around and a small doubt began to rise in the back of his mind. He quickly crushed it. He was firmly determined to follow his theory to the end.  
  
Roxton was rewarded as he spotted a misplaced splash of color through the jungle vegetation. As he came closer to it he could make out silk lined tents and opulent table settings. Seated at one of the tables behind a magnificent feast was a man. He was dressed in Arthur's attire but his other physical features had changed into the semblance that Roxton recognized all too well. On a previous encounter, this man claimed that the temple had been built for him and that he was immortal. Some said he was a trickster god. One of the many names he went by was Olmec. All Roxton focused on was that the last encounter with this 'man' had nearly cost Marguerite her life. Still sighting down the barrel of his rifle, Roxton lightly caressed the trigger as he called out.  
  
"Olmec."  
  
The man looked up with very little concern as he picked up a delectable French pastry.  
  
"Why Lord Roxton. Fancy meeting you here."  
  
He made a broad sweeping gesture over the table.  
  
"Care to join me?" he invited.  
  
"I've had just about enough of your company." Roxton replied angrily.  
  
"However can you pass up such a fine feast? After days on your meager diet I'm simply famished." He stated with a hint of petulance.  
  
The man glared wickedly at Roxton's rifle.  
  
"That's not very sporting of you." He sighed as he pointed at it with an aristocratically dramatic flare.  
  
"I'm not taking any chances this time. You're going back to hell where you belong." Roxton replied.  
  
"I'm immortal, or have you forgotten?"  
  
"I seem to remember your minions saying the same thing until confronted by a similar situation. Then they cowered like the rats they are. So again, I'll take my chances."  
  
Olmec smiled in an unconcernedly almost approving way. Attempting to change the subject he continued.  
  
"Still pining for Marguerite I see. She'll never love you a much as gold, you know."  
  
"I don't believe you." Roxton firmly replied.  
  
"No, I suppose you wouldn't. And I don't suppose you'll let it go?" He asked with crossed hands and eyebrows raised.  
  
"Never."  
  
"Ah, well, mores the pity."  
  
Olmec looked past Roxton and nodded. The last thing Roxton heard was snickering from behind him as something hit him and the world went dark.  
  
"You certainly took long enough." Olmec grunted towards his two companions.  
  
They cowered and bowed as they awaited their master's unpredictable mood.  
  
"Oh, never mind. Drag him over here and search him."  
  
The minions complied at once. As they began to move him a cloth pouch dropped from one of Roxton's pockets.  
  
"Well, well, well, what do we have here?"  
  
Olmec picked up the pouch and opened it. He grinned broadly.  
  
"What an unexpected fortunate turn of events. And how fitting."  
  
He turned to his companions and showed them the hypodermic syringe.  
  
"What say you fellows we give it to him?"  
  
He bent down and injected the serum into Roxton while barely acknowledging the snickering approval of his underlings.  
  
"Talk about trickster justice." He muttered.  
  
He then turned to his minions.  
  
"Keep our Lord nearby. I want to witness his rude awakening and have a little fun before removing him permanently."

**xxxxxxxx**

****

Finn held on to the branch for a moment. She swung a few times before dropping to the ground. Once she finished bowing to an imaginary audience who applauded her graceful and accomplished landing, she carefully tucked her signal mirror into a pouch on her belt. Challenger had been right again when he'd told her that the mirrors would come in handy and that learning the code would be worthwhile. Now that she was sure that reinforcements were on the way, she felt better about pursuing Roxton and Marguerite's mad quest towards the unknown. It unnerved her to watch them loose their cool. They usually lectured her about safety issues and the consequences of not thinking things through properly. _'Whatever it was, it must be something pretty bad'_, she reasoned. Still, they might need her help and she was determined to be there for them. She double checked her crossbow and calculated how many bolts she had. She then checked her direction, clearly noting the careless trail left by her companions. She sighed as she followed it. _'Sometimes it was much easier to be on my own.'_

**xxxxxxxx**

****

Olmec's two companions frantically ran into their posh camp.  
  
"Olmec, we need to pack up and go." The first one said.  
  
"Yes, those people are on their way with their guns." The second agreed.  
  
"Relax, everything's under control." Olmec replied.  
  
"That's what you said the last time and remember what nearly happened?" The first one replied.  
  
"Why you insolent puppy. How dare you! We made it out just fine. You two should grow a spine. I have half a mind to replace you. Both of you!"  
  
"You hear that Blum?" The second minion asked his comrade.  
  
"No...please, I'm sorry." Blum stammered.  
  
"Replace us with whom?" Condillac the second companion inquired.  
  
Olmec stood over Roxton's unconscious form. He prodded the hunter with a stick while humming a sweet little tune.  
  
"He'll do for one of you." Olmec casually replied.  
  
"Which one?" Blum asked in a quivering voice.  
  
"Don't cower so much you silly fool. It all comes down to that woman. Don't you see?" Condillac voiced.  
  
He then grabbed Blum and shook him as if to awaken some sense before continuing.  
  
"If he inducts this idiot, the woman will more than likely follow."  
  
Blum's fear gave way to temper as he mulled it over.  
  
"You're right, Condillac. I'll say this much. Her immortality won't last long. I'll see to that."  
  
Olmec had remained quiet up until now. He was sitting back and enjoying their paranoid performance. However, the threat concerning Marguerite went against his plans. He'd have to nip their schemes in the bud.  
  
"Oh really, and how exactly do you plan to deny my gift to her of immortality? Any method would involve getting your hands dirty and you two aren't exactly known for doing that."  
  
"I can make an exception." Blum stated stubbornly.  
  
"Pulling the trigger isn't as subtle as poison. How often have you used arsenic in your recipes?" Olmec laughed.  
  
"Just that once." Blum answered defensively.  
  
"You really are amusing and your culinary skills are to die for. Put all the arsenic in that you want. It hardly affects the taste at all. In fact, I do believe it adds to the flavor." Olmec laughed harder.  
  
"I had to test you. You'd have done the same in my place." Blum replied.  
  
Olmec turned more serious.  
  
"You don't want to test me now. Go stake out the path and deny passage to everyone but Marguerite. Use whatever methods necessary and take Condillac with you."  
  
The minions began to head out but paused as Olmec spoke again. His voice was calm but menacing.  
  
"Don't fail me this time. Centuries of companionship try the best of relationships. Pray I don't further weary of your company."

**xxxxxxxx**

****

Marguerite was near enough that she could just make out the temple ruins through the dense vegetation. She had made it this far without finding Roxton. She knew that it was too late to intercede. She still wondered where he could be. Again she had to qualm her rising anxiety. She would find him and he would be fine. Any other scenario was unthinkable. A foreign noise caught her off guard. Startled, she quickly drew her revolver and aimed it from side to side searching for the source. Nothing was apparent and she did not hear the sound again. She kept her revolver in hand and continued to follow Roxton's clearly marked trail. His recklessness heightened her anxiety. If he could be reckless in one area it stood to reason that he could be reckless in another.  
  
She saw some colorful tents not that far ahead. As she started toward them something bizarre happened. At first the tents appeared to be slightly fuzzy. Then they shimmered not unlike a mirage. Finally, they vanished all together. For a moment Marguerite could not believe her eyes. Then she remembered with whom she was dealing and shrugged it off. She needed to find John and leave as soon as possible. She back tracked towards the temple and made her way to the stone steps. As she climbed them she saw a still figure lying near a familiar pool. Her blood ran cold at the sight. It was Roxton.  
  
"No!" she shouted.  
  
She ran to his side heedless of safety and caution. She dropped her revolver and gathered him into her arms praying for any signs of life.  
  
"Don't you dare leave me," she cried.  
  
She delicately placed her fingers to his neck feeling for a pulse. It seemed as if a great weight lifted as she found it. She then gently patted his face trying to wake him. She had no luck. She couldn't figure why he was unconscious and her worry once again rose as her attempts to revive him failed. She was at a loss as to what to try next when the temple flames ignited and a figure loomed near.  
  
"Greetings, Marguerite."  
  
"François Locke. Or should I call you Olmec?"  
  
"Call me what you will. Any name is charming coming from your lips."  
  
Marguerite ignored the flattery.  
  
"What did you do to Roxton?" she inquired.  
  
"What, no more niceties? What's happened to your manners? Where's your fiery spirit?"  
  
Marguerite did not answer. She stared into Olmec's eyes and tried to hold his attention while she inched a hand towards her fallen weapon using Roxton's body to hide her movement. Olmec, on the other hand, noticed and refused to take the bait. He aimed an ancient looking flintlock pistol in her direction.  
  
"There it is." Olmec smiled in answer to his last question. "Don't reach out any further or the Englishman gets it. In case you're wondering, he's of limited use to me and as so easy to eliminate. Now, slowly throw your weapon over my way."  
  
Marguerite did as he asked. She simply could not risk Roxton's life.  
  
"That's better isn't it," Olmec stated as he slightly lowered his own weapon.  
  
He sat down on a stone slab as if he hadn't a care in the world and looked at her like a long lost friend. His attitude gave Marguerite an extremely unpleasant and queasy sensation.  
  
"What do you want?" she asked.  
  
"I want what I've always wanted." He replied eyeing her suggestively.  
  
She opted to ignore him.  
  
"What did you do to Roxton?" she repeated.  
  
At first Olmec wasn't going to answer but changed his mind as he noted her determined resolve. He reached behind his back and pulled out a syringe, partially wrapped in its original cloth pouch.  
  
"Look familiar?" he asked.  
  
Guilt swept over Marguerite and she glanced at Roxton apologetically.  
  
"Concern doesn't become you. What do you see in this lout anyway?"  
  
Olmec smiled sweetly at her angry glare.  
  
"My, my things have changed haven't they...well not all things. No matter what you may think now your feelings are only temporary. I know you Marguerite. I know the real you. We are two of a kind. Your petty romance with this simpleton will never last."  
  
"What do you know about it? You've never given me any reason to believe you. What makes you think I'd be crazy enough to even consider starting now? You're just a lunatic who tried to drown me."  
  
"I resent that. I offered you immortality. More than that, I offer it again with a twist. I'm so sure that we're meant to be that I'm willing to test it. I'll make you immortal and I'll do the same for Lord dum-dum here. Think about it. I'm sure that in no time you'll see 'what's his face' for the loser he is and come to me. But if I'm wrong, and it does last, you and he will have eternity together."  
  
Olmec emphasized the last phrase and leaned toward her expectantly. The idea was extremely pleasing to Marguerite. She looked down at Roxton. She would have forever with the man she loved and never age. It was like a fairy tale. That last thought was what broke the ideal. Life was not a fairy tale and she was not meant for happily ever after, especially with this madman in the picture.  
  
"I regret to inform you that I'll have to decline your offer." Marguerite stated in her most disinterested and business like voice.  
  
"Why do you have to be so difficult? I offer you everything and I'm still denied. Maybe its best if you have no choice in the matter."  
  
Olmec stood up and loomed over them. He once again drew his pistol.  
  
"Back up." He demanded.  
  
Marguerite didn't move.  
  
"What are you going to do?" she asked suspiciously.  
  
"Perhaps you didn't notice but I'm the one holding a weapon. Let's try it again, shall we? Listen carefully."  
  
Olmec bent down and placed the tip of his weapon to Roxton's head.  
  
"Back up." Olmec repeated.  
  
Marguerite complied.  
  
"There now, that wasn't hard, admit it. Relax, you have nothing to be afraid of, trust me."  
  
With that said, Olmec quickly and unexpectedly turned his body towards Roxton and kicked him. The force of the kick shoved the unconscious hunter towards the pool. Roxton's limp form offered no resistance and it only took one shove to roll him into the water where he landed face down.  
  
"No, Roxton!" Marguerite screamed.  
  
Olmec pointed the flintlock pistol at her but she was beyond caring. Her concern overtook caution and she carelessly flung herself at her antagonist. Although he should of expected it, the move surprised Olmec to the point that he did not have time to fire. Marguerite's momentum drove Olmec to the ground. The wind was knocked out of him and he struggled to regain his breath.  
  
As Marguerite tried to regain her balance she stumbled and started to fall. She put her hands out trying to catch herself. As they touched the ground she felt the familiar touch of cold steel beneath one of her hands. It was her revolver. She grasped it and righted herself. She didn't have time to plan she just reacted. Her one thought was to get to Roxton. She wildly fired at Olmec while moving towards the pool. Olmec heard a bullet whiz past his ear. It landed in a stone obelisk beside his head. The obelisk was ancient and weathered. The impact of the bullet caused a large section to shatter. Fragments flew out in all directions. The pieces fell short of the retreating Marguerite but Olmec was not so fortunate. A sharp hunk of stone crashed into his face scratching him from his lower jaw to just underneath his eye. Still winded and now bleeding he had little cause to pay attention to the frantic woman's actions.  
  
Marguerite never looked back. She rushed to the pool and jumped in without hesitation. She grasped Roxton and drew his head above water. She took him towards the nearest side and attempted to raise him out of the pool. He was water logged and heavy, and the sides of the pool were slippery and steep. She was unable to lift him over the edge. However, she refused to stop trying as she formulated other possible options. She couldn't think of anything feasible and realized that they were stuck in the pool. She shifted Roxton's weight in order to free her gun hand. She breathed a small sigh of relief as she noticed that he was breathing. The pool was small and offered little protection. Nevertheless, she maneuvered him to the portion of the pool that would provide him the most cover. As soon as she had made the most of a bad position she saw two men emerge from the jungle and rush towards Olmec. Marguerite recognized them as Olmec's traveling companions, Condillac and Blum.  
  
"Olmec, are you alright?" shouted Blum.  
  
"We heard shooting." Condillac added.  
  
"Watch it you fools, she has a gun." Olmec warned.  
  
"That's right, and I'm not afraid to use it." Marguerite answered as she levelly aimed at Olmec's heart.  
  
Condillac and Blum stared dumbfounded for a split second before raising their own flintlock weapons.  
  
"You shoot, he dies." Condillac stated.  
  
"Then you die." Blum added.  
  
Olmec had sufficiently recovered by this time and moved to stand by his men. He laughed heartily.  
  
"Good job lads. We finally have her exactly where I want her. How long can she hold on to the dullard? What will claim her first, the cold or the water? Lets get comfortable and wait it out. And how about a wager to sweeten the pot?"  
  
The minions joined in with Olmec's laughter. Their mirth grated on Marguerite's nerves. She still aimed at Olmec's heart even though she knew it was a stalemate. She refused to back down. She hugged Roxton wondering if she should take the risk. They had flintlock weapons. One shot each. She had a repeat revolver, but it was unrealistic to think she'd be able to take out all three. The temptation was there and she would have taken it had it not been for Roxton. Still she let the stalemate continue. She might have no choice but to take the risk if she couldn't come up with a preferable alternative. Luckily the decision was taken out of her hands as Finn made her way on the scene.  
  
"I wouldn't get too comfortable if I were you." Finn stated to the travelers.  
  
"I told you, their armed companions are on their way. We should get this over with before more arrive." Blum complained.  
  
"Hey honey, drop your gun. I'll let you go. Otherwise put a sock in it." Finn said.  
  
"Honey?" Blum inquired.  
  
He puffed out his chest thinking that she admired his manliness. He looked her over. She looked back at him, rolled her eyes, and grunted.  
  
"Please. Like, I'm totally sorry but with your girly clothes and puffy doo I thought you were a chick."  
  
Blum was affronted and Condillac frowned. Olmec laughed.  
  
"Miss Finn, I had no idea you were so funny."  
  
Finn took the statement the wrong way.  
  
"Funny? I'm not the one hanging out with frilly lace dudes you freaky fruit loop."  
  
Olmec laughed harder. However, Condillac lost his miniscule amount of patience.  
  
"I've had enough of this," he stated as he fired at Finn.  
  
"Finn!" Marguerite shouted as she fired at Condillac.  
  
Marguerite's shot hit Condillac's gun splitting the barrel. He dropped it and cursed, yelping in pain. His shot went wide completely missing Finn. Blum was unsure whether to shoot at Finn or Marguerite. He was already aiming at Marguerite when the shooting started so he went ahead and pulled the trigger. His pistol misfired. A split second later it was torn from his hand as a bolt from Finn's crossbow made impact. Finn didn't stop there. She successively fired another bolt surprising Olmec. He successfully stepped aside and the bolt flew past him.  
  
"You're out." Olmec stated to Finn.  
  
She smiled and pulled out a small pistol from the back of her belt. Marguerite recognized it as one of the ones Roxton had hidden around the tree house. He hid weapons like she hid jewels. It was absurd really.  
  
"Never place all your eggs in one basket." Finn smiled. "Now, you two help them out of the water."  
  
The minions turned towards Olmec.  
  
"Don't look at him. I'm the one with the gun you half wits." She said somewhat frustrated.  
  
Olmec nodded to them and they complied. They none to gently yanked the nobleman out of the pool and dropped him on the ground.  
  
"Ouch," mumbled Finn and she cringed at the sight.  
  
The minions then turned to help Marguerite. She brushed their hands away and emerged from the pool between them with great dignity. She glanced at Roxton's limp form. Without a word and with amazing speed she pistol-whipped first one and then the other. They reeled from the blow and hunched over clutching their bruised faces.  
  
"Good help is so hard to find." Marguerite murmured.  
  
"Ouch," Olmec muttered still smiling.  
  
Marguerite then raised her revolver and once again aimed at Olmec's heart. Without further ceremony she pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. She was out of bullets. She must have initially fired more than she had realized when she rushed him earlier. She whispered an extremely vulgar curse.  
  
"Looks like my lucky day." Olmec said in his annoyingly mundane way.  
  
"Finn, shoot him." Marguerite ordered.  
  
"Wait a minute. Who is he and where's Arthur?" Finn asked.  
  
"He's a thief and a murderer who's tried to kill Roxton and me. What's the difference? Shoot him."  
  
"Did he kill Arthur? Is that why he's dressed in his clothes?"  
  
"Finn!" Marguerite yelled. Then, composing herself, she continued more calmly. "He is the Arthur you know. It was all a trick."  
  
Finn looked carefully at Olmec. Other than the clothes she could see no resemblance to the young man she had come to know. She shook her head a little sadly.  
  
"So this is how you get your kicks? Tricking people?" Finn asked.  
  
"Come on. We've had a few laughs haven't we? And it is my nature." Olmec replied.  
  
"Nature, huh? So what's with the pool?"  
  
"Finn, just shoot him!" Marguerite insisted.  
  
Finn ignored her reveling in the small payback for the many times she went ignored. She raised an eyebrow at Olmec who nodded approvingly.  
  
"It's the gateway to immortality. I offered it to Marguerite but she refused. Would you care to take it?"  
  
A slight gleam of interested anticipation poured out through the question. However, Finn didn't have any experience with the trickster god or any knowledge of his past deeds. She thought he was merely another lunatic bent on killing them all. Also, she simply did not believe him.  
  
"Some other time." Finn replied laughingly.  
  
Olmec laughed back entranced by her naiveté.  
  
"Of course, as you wish," he answered bowing slightly.  
  
"Finn..." Marguerite said dangerously.  
  
Again Finn ignored her much to Olmec's delight.  
  
"How do you know so much about that old Summerlee guy?" she asked Olmec.  
  
"Malone's journals. Such an informative and entertaining set of volumes, as you well know."  
  
"You know I read them?" Finn asked, impressed.  
  
"I do indeed. All that fuss over something he plans to publish anyway."  
  
"I know! I mean he's all like they're private and stuff and then he talks about how famous he'll be when everybody reads them. Then he gets all pissy if we do it."  
  
Finn was enchanted by the fact that someone saw her as more than a poor dumb little girl who couldn't read. She recognized that Olmec saw something more to her. Something her companions sometimes took for granted. The moment was broken when they were interrupted by Blum's voice.  
  
"Olmec. The others are near. I can hear them."  
  
Olmec sighed. Marguerite looked impatiently at Finn, begging her to take the shot. Finn hesitated. She kind of liked this guy.  
  
"As much as I hate to admit it, its time for us to depart for the world beyond." Olmec stated.  
  
"You mean leave the Plateau?" Finn asked interested.  
  
Before the question completely left Finn's lips Olmec threw a handful of dust like material into the air. The particles swirled and brightened until a foreign scene appeared. A window had been cut out of the normal background. Marguerite recognized the place. It was a city with which she was well familiar. Her heart skipped a beat at what she saw and at the sounds that emanated from the portal.  
  
"Paris," she whispered.  
  
Blum and Condillac ran towards the portal, gleefully escaping another botched encounter with the explorers. In no time they were on the other side, awaiting Olmec, with three majestic horses. Finn lowered her pistol completely enthralled by what she saw. She stood there with gaping jaw as she witnessed the thriving city. She particularly noticed a structure she recognized from photographs out of old magazines from her post apocalyptic future. She had never seen a city so unblemished and beautiful or a structure so awe inspiring. _'What was it the old ones had called that thing?'_ she wondered.  
  
"The waffle tower," she muttered.  
  
Olmec overheard her and was amused.  
  
"I had no idea you could be so absolutely charming, Miss Finn. I'll have to keep it in mind for next time."  
  
Finn took her eyes off the amazing scene to look at Olmec. His attire had changed from Arthur's to some more similar to his companions. She couldn't comprehend how he'd accomplished it. Then again, she couldn't comprehend the entire situation.  
  
"Once again Marguerite, you've missed your chance." Olmec stated.  
  
"Oh, I'll cry later." Marguerite spat.  
  
"Yes, well, c'est la vie. N'est pas? Adieu Marguerite. Finn.. Au Revoir."  
  
With a formal bow and a sweep of his cloak he headed into the portal. Just then the other explorers rushed up the temple steps in time to witness Olmec's departure.  
  
"What the..." began Malone.  
  
"Another portal." Challenger stated enthusiastically.  
  
"Déjà vu." Veronica said.  
  
They managed to catch only a small glimpse before the portal disappeared entirely, taking the travelers with it. Marguerite went immediately to Roxton followed closely by the others. She checked him over while explaining what had happened to the others. It would be a long trek back to the tree house.

**xxxxxxxx**

****

Marguerite sat on the balcony and looked around the tree house contentedly. Although she was still partially upset that Olmec had once again escaped, things at home were back to normal. Roxton made his way to join her. He still had dark circles under his eyes but suffered no other ill effects from the serum. She felt another twinge of guilt as she noticed the circles.  
  
"Remind me again never to get on your bad side." He commented teasingly.  
  
She gave him an apologetic expression and he smiled reassuringly in return. He did not hold her responsible. In fact the serum had worked exactly as she said it would. She really was amazing.  
  
"So that's what Paris looks like in your time, huh? Complete with the waffle tower." Finn mentioned.  
  
"Eiffel Tower," corrected Veronica.  
  
"Whatever. It looked really cool. I'd like to go there one day." Finn replied.  
  
"Maybe one day we'll all go together." Roxton offered.  
  
They all smiled and agreed save Veronica who was still hesitant about anything concerning leaving the Plateau.  
  
"I still can't believe you didn't warn us about pretend Arthur." Veronica said looking pointedly at Marguerite.  
  
Marguerite turned away, uncomfortable about offering a reply.  
  
"There wasn't an opportune time." She answered lamely.  
  
"Couldn't work it in over your busy schedule?" prodded Veronica.  
  
"Would you even have believed us?" Roxton asked defensively.  
  
"That's a good point. He was a trickster god after all." Malone said trying to keep the peace.  
  
"Who learned all he needed to know through your journals." Finn added.  
  
"What would you know about that?" asked Malone.  
  
Finn was about to reply when a stern cautionary look from Marguerite helped her to control her tongue. There were far better ways to payback Malone. Their attention turned to a shout from the laboratory. They each called out for Challenger as they rushed to see what was the matter. They found the scientist staring into a specimen case.  
  
"Its unbelievable." Challenger was saying.  
  
"What is it, Challenger?" asked Malone.  
  
"Its Arthur. He's returned."  
  
The group moved closer to the case, surrounding it in order to get a better look. There, in the center of the case, was the insect christened Arthur, still in his cocoon.  
  
"How can this be?" Veronica inquired.  
  
"He must have been here the whole time." Challenger replied.  
  
"Without any of us noticing?" asked Finn.  
  
No one answered her. They stared in stunned silence. Through the quiet they could have sworn they heard a deep booming laughter. Then it was gone. Roxton and Marguerite peered around uncertainly. In silent agreement they decided to leave the lab. As they made their exit they heard Malone speak.  
  
"Beware a trick?"  
  
Veronica groaned.  
  
"Save it for your journals, Ned."  
  
The End


End file.
